In Memory Of
by ClockwerkOrange
Summary: Cyclonia has fallen and the Storm Hawks have returned victorious; however, remnant Cyclonian forces have been spotted across the Atmos. An amnesiac is rescued by the Storm Hawks, whose members must stand against their worst enemy - but from where the attack will come from is anyone's guess. Note: This is not a self-insertion.
1. In the Murk

**[ Author's Note:**

**Hello, ladies. This is going to be my first venture into _Storm Hawks_ fiction, but I have a feeling that you'll find it to be entertaining. If you have any concerns, just let me know. In addition, the reviews are filled with spoilers. Try to avoid them until you've read up to the latest chapter.**

**This is set a little while after the final episode. Everything that happened in the series happened in the storyline of this story, and events leading up to the 'present' (i.e. the time between the final episode and the first chapter of this story) will be filled in as the story progresses. I just felt like sharing that. Be sure to review! I love feedback, and it makes me feel better knowing that someone's actually reading this stuff.**

**So, without further ado, I give you 'In Memory Of'. Don't forget to review.  
**

**~CWO**

**P.S. And, no, this is not a self-insertion. ]**

The first thing I remembered hearing was an alarm. Needless to say, it was rather… alarming. I had been asleep – for whatever reason – and my eyes opened slowly to reveal a rather dim and dingy ceiling. After gasping and breathing heavily for a few seconds, which was most likely a reaction to a nightmare that had been cut short, I decided to pull myself up to a sitting position and examine my environment. When I tried to pull my body up to do so, I felt a dull pain coming from the muscles in my arms, so I took a moment to assess my condition. I was clearly on a bed, and it seemed like I had gone to sleep – or been placed there – without bothering to use the blanket. Thankfully, I was also fully clothed in an odd, old-fashioned-looking jacket and trousers which looked to be a little bigger than my size. For some reason, I couldn't remember what I'd been wearing before… before…?

I decided that I was still groggy. Worrying about anything other than my current situation could prove to be useless, or even dangerous, I thought. I straightened my jacket, gingerly twisted myself off of the bed, and stuffed my sock-feet into the pair of thick, black boots that were waiting on the wood-paneled floor below me. Once my feet were protected, I remembered to check my surroundings; after blinking a few times, I could tell that I was at the end of a row of empty beds, and it seemed like all was still and quiet, except for the siren going off and echoing, breaking the silence. The room itself was lit by an orange-tinted glow coming from a small lantern on a wooden nightstand, just a few beds down from mine. That was when a long, vaguely metallic creak pulled me out of my observation and brought me back to the present, albeit a tad more unnerved than I had been before.

"I'm… on a ship," I remarked, but I immediately made a sour expression at the sound of my voice… it sounded rusty from disuse. After clearing my throat a few times, I decided that I might as well see what was in store for me beyond the bedchamber door. I began walking, but found that action to be exceedingly difficult due to the fact that I seemed completely unable to move in a straight line. I lurched to the left and threw my hands onto the wall, which just barely kept me upright. I shook my head and blinked a few times in an attempt to regain my composure and began creeping along slowly, keeping my left hand on the wall and my right hand in the air above the foot of the beds in case I decided to lose my balance again. I kept blinking – the glow from the sole light source in the room casting shadows with all of the objects in it, including me, was playing tricks on my vision. The alarm blaring every few seconds did little to help.

_Rattlerattle…_ my eyes shot to the source of the metallic jangling, and I realized that I had hit the knob of the door with my left hand in my dizzy foray across the room. I stared blankly at the door at first, but eventually I decided to go ahead and open it. I pulled it slowly with a lingering creak, and stepped through it quietly. After it drifted to a mostly-shut position behind me, I glanced to the left. It was a hallway, but the light from the bedchamber faded off into impenetrable blackness. I shrugged, and glanced to the right. There was another door at the end of the hallway with light coming from underneath, so I decided that I might as well head that way.

"Deeps, deeps, they'll crush your tiny hulls…"

I froze. Voices were rising up from the door I was walking to, joining together in a chorus.

"Deeps, deeps… leave nothing but your skulls."

I made an effort to mentally distance myself from the otherwise terrifying situation. After taking a deep breath, I analyzed the facts. One, I was sleeping on a bed in here, so obviously I must be some kind of guest. Two, there were multiple beds in my room, so obviously there would've been other people in there – someone on this ship definitely knew that I was sleeping in there. And three, I… I couldn't remember a thing. Maybe I was drunk, I thought absently. Whatever the case, I would have to go through the door in front of me, no matter who was singing on the other side. I began taking some semi-confident strides down to the door, wrapped my hand around the cold metal knob, twisted it firmly, and then pulled it open. Without waiting for a greeting or seeing who – or what – was inside, I walked past the threshold without a word and closed the door behind me.

"Well, hello," a gravelly voice called from behind my back. I spun around and came face-to-face with a towering figure wearing a tricorne hat and dark dreadlocks. The only other remarkable thing about him was that he had a hideous gap where his left eye should've been.

I made an effort to not voice my surprise, but my eyes widened. "Hello," I greeted with a voice a bit firmer than it had been before. It must've still come across as a bit timid, because he chuckled quietly as a reply. I glanced around the raider, and noticed that a large fraction of the rest of the crew was gathered around the bridge of the ship, all at their stations. One by one, they each looked up and noticed my presence. I narrowed my eyes in response. Seeing where I was looking, the first raider swung around and cleared his throat.

"Listen up, lads," he began, clasping his hands behind his back. "This is the young lady we recovered from the crash." He nodded at me, but I stared back blankly. "She will be treated as a guest. Besides, she didn't have anything of value on her, anyway!" he finished, sparking uproarious laughter from the crew. He turned to me and bowed slightly. "Captain Scabulous, at your service." Apparently, his chivalrous attitude was amusing enough to bring out a few more chuckles from the crew.

I nodded in reply. "I… I'm…" Scabulous raised an eyebrow. "I can't seem to remember anything."

The captain stared at me with a raised eyebrow. "Are ye serious, lass?"

"Yes, I'm serious," I replied flatly.

"Amnesia?" he ventured, switching his raised eyebrow to the other side. "Grog?" Seeing no response forthcoming, he shrugged. "Just wait while I deal with one little problem, and then we can discuss your little problem… Oi, what was setting off the proximity warning?" he asked the nearest crewman. When he was answered with a shrug, he lumbered over to the radar screen and examined it silently. "That's a big marker," he murmured, stroking his chin furtively. Eventually, his face broke out into a pointy smile. "A big ship means a lot of loot, lads. Bring us up!"

After the crew cheered in response and began angling the ship for an ascent, I stared out of the bridge into the deep, murky clouds outside. There was nothing to be seen aside from a few rocky outcroppings in the distance and to the edges of my field of view, but we had definitely begun our ascent. While everyone on the bridge began their dark chanting of "Deeps, deeps," I stood by and squinted in the general direction of our supposed target. Eventually, I saw a few dim red glows in the gloom. The general shape of the ship started to take form in front of my eyes, and with a creak from our vessel punctuating it, I could make out a few details. It was a massive red airship with a stylized claw-like metal covering.

"A Cyclonian destroyer…?" Scabulous muttered incredulously. "Why would they come to Terra Deep? I mean, there's probably only one or two of those things left!"

I raised an eyebrow. I didn't recognize the vessel at all, and the meaning of "Cyclonian" escaped me.

"Oh, who cares," my host continued in a growl. "I bet it's loaded down with all kinds of loot. Move in for an attack!"

Our ship was now at the same elevation as the "Cyclonian" vessel, and we were both aimed directly at each other and advancing gradually… but that was when I noticed it. The others followed suit shortly afterward with reactions of their own, but my only gesture was a small frown. I was frowning – and others were suddenly barking alarmed words back and forth – because of the series of red glows _behind_ the Cyclonian ship.

"I think those 'one or two' ships are all here," I stated. My comment was met with a few dry chuckles and growls. Their lack of enthusiasm was to be expected – there were five Cyclonian destroyers arrayed in battle formation, and they were clearly upset judging from the way the ships on the sides of the group began branching out in their trajectories, obviously trying to swallow our vessel whole in a movement that would spell out a blaster-induced doom.

"Alright, lads, head down as quickly as ye can!" Scabulous shouted, glancing around at his nervous crew. It was then that the Cyclonians decided to open fire.

_Ka-BOOM…_ I raised my eyes up to the Cyclonian vessels again, and grimly acknowledged the familiar sound. They definitely saw us, I thought.

"Eh, cap'n," a crewman began, waving for Scabulous's attention. "Our hull's been breached – they're usin' serious firepower! We can't descend!"

"Call for backup, then! Hit the distress beacon!" Scabulous shouted, rage boiling over. "Full reverse!"

I clenched my fist. "Full speed ahead!" I shouted.

"What… did you say?" Scabulous asked, staring down at me. He didn't seem pleased.

"If you rush through them now, they'll be forced to fire into the center of their formation," I explained, brow furrowed and grimace evident. I felt furious at him, as if this all should've been obvious. "If you divert all shielding power to the front of the ship, we can speed through and force them to turn around. Once they've spent all that time turning around, we'll have had plenty of time to bombard them and your 'backup' will have arrived to hit them from behind a second time."

Scabulous stared blankly. "I… that's bloody brilliant," he murmured. He took his eye off of mine and fixed it on his crew, who stood in a hesitant silence. "You heard her!" he yelled. "Full speed ahead! Focus our shields in the front!"

After the shields were diverted and the engines whined to full speed, we began gliding past the first two destroyers. Naturally, they began opening fire on our ship and – for the most part – hit each other more than us. I felt a little blip of pleasure when I noticed that one of the engines of the destroyer to our left had been blasted by friendly fire. Both of the destroyers that we had drifted past began turning slowly, obviously trying to get a better shot. We were between the second two destroyers now, and that was when a crewman checking the radar yelled, "Another ship's comin' in from ahead!"

"Yes, I know – bank right around the destroyer," I commanded, pointing firmly at the massive, foreboding craft in front of us.

"Yes, ma'am, but I was talking about the ship coming in behind it," he replied timidly, twiddling his thumbs as he did.

"What?" My eyes narrowed on cue from the blue craft that shot past the destroyer, peppering it with blue blaster bolts. "It seems like they're on our side for the time being," I remarked with a smug grin.

"That's the Storm Hawks' ship," Scabulous noted. He shrugged when I shot him a questioning glance.

"Then I suppose these 'Storm Hawks' take distress calls seriously," I replied. I hadn't the foggiest idea of who those people were, but help from any source would've been appreciated. "Continue with the plan. Bank right around the destroyer and bring us around."

After we shot past the last two destroyers – they peppered each other's hulls with their blasters, as I knew they would – we drifted to the right to get behind the fifth destroyer. Once we were about two thirds of the way around in our banking, the gunner asked if he should begin firing.

"Open fire," I stated evenly. "Aim for their engines… we're woefully outnumbered, so the goal is their retreat, not their destruction."

The gunner began bringing crashing blasts of purple to bear on the enemy ships from above, but I seemed to have made a small miscalculation regarding these "Cyclonian" destroyers, because the destroyer farthest away from us – the one with fully operational engines, at least – had managed to gradually swing around fully to face us and began firing bolts of red energy in our direction. The heavy energy cannons' shots splattered across the shields in front of our vessel, and shorted out quickly.

"Shields down!" someone screamed.

"Continue firing," I said flatly.

Another shot from the enemy destroyer crashed into the bow, and the ship lurched. The next one crashed into the starboard engine, and we started drifting to one side. A chorus of "Abandon ship!" rose up from the crew, and they began abandoning their stations. I glanced over at Scabulous, who was in a rage at the controls.

"They must be hitting us with everything left in the Cyclonian Royal Fleet," Scabulous snarled. "Why here?"

I had no answer for him. After a few more rumbling crashes and jarring, I noticed that – according to our radar – we had under a minute before all of the ships would be able to open fire. I glanced up, and evidently Scabulous had been looking at the radar as well, since his shoulders sagged and he let out a growl.

"We've gotta abandon the _Blood Crow,_" he muttered sullenly. "Where are those blasted Storm Hawks when you need them? Some help they were!"

I chuckled. "Isn't the captain supposed to go down with his ship?"

He shot me a glare, then promptly pulled his hat off of his head and unceremoniously pressed it onto mine. "Cheers. You're the new captain." Then he calmly paced to the door out of the bridge, opened it, stepped through, and closed it behind him. I heard him sprint down the hallway from the other side.

I grabbed the controls of the ship and made sure that the _Blood Crow_ was on a direct collision course with the destroyer with the crippled engine and then gunned the engines as high as they would go, but then I stumbled when an especially strong blow to the hull jarred the ship. After I staggered to the door, I went down the hallway as the ludicrous speed of the ship and the constant barrages from the enemy caused everything to shake around me. They were definitely all firing on the ship now, so I needed to get to whatever aerial vehicle was left in the landing bay before the _Crow_ smashed into an enemy destroyer at maximum speed or was blown apart at its seams.

I ran through the landing bay door, and the outer door of the bay was wide open with all the murky fog of Terra Deep streaming past at high speed. However, there was one thing missing – all of the available aircraft had been taken. I stood, shocked, looking out into the abyss before me, even as the ship rumbled and creaked horribly, seemingly ready to buckle. There wasn't enough time to alter the course of the _Crow_, and even if I did the ship would be blown apart by enemy fire. There wasn't anything to escape on, either. So, I did the only reasonable thing that one could do in that sort of situation.

I jumped.

"_Aaaah!_" The wind was whistling past me so hard that I could barely hear my own yelling. I flailed around uselessly against the power of gravity, and absently noticed that a small trail of red fluid began dripping from my nose. The pressure from the depths will kill me before the fall, I thought glumly. Rather than be horrified and scream more, I felt resigned to my fate.

That made it a little confusing when I felt something soft come in contact with my body. It gave in to the velocity of my fall, but eventually leveled out in elevation.

"I've got you," a female voice called from somewhere around me.

"Who's got me?" I asked shakily, blood still dripping from my nose. It was then that I realized the black fog I'd thought was from the depths of Terra Deep was actually in my vision.

I fainted.


	2. Warmth

**[ Author's Note:**

**Hi, there. I bet you've all been waiting on the edge of your seat for the next chapter – well, here it is. I've been trying to address all the weaknesses I've noticed in all of the other stories I've ever written, such as failing to use enough detail, failing to write chapters that were long enough, relying too heavily on dialogue, etc. in this story, so it's probably going to be, well, the best thing I've ever written! Wow. Also, just from my (extremely humble) standpoint, I can tell you're going to like it. That goes for all future chapters, too! You will like it (or else)!**

**~CWO ]**

I was running. All was barren with a bleak red glow cast upon the landscape from the lava of the wasteland. I ran from broken, twisted metal spires past mounds of shattered columns until I was out of breath and breathing raggedly, hands pressed on my legs for support. This land of desolation… where was I?

"So nice of you to join us," a voice called from behind me.

**(._.)**

I opened my eyes gingerly, still stuck between reality and my dream. I glanced around dizzily and noticed that I was in a bed – again. Apart from the bed, there were crates of what looked like crystals of different colors and a few workbenches, cabinets, and tools. It was pretty dark, but the crystals seemed to gleam with a faint glow. I looked between the two doors in the room. The one near the bed was doubtlessly the closet, so I started eyeing the other one. They say history repeats itself, I mused silently. I shook my head and dismissed the thought – if another catastrophe was going to happen, it would have to find me, not the other way around… I dropped my head back onto the pillow and pulled the sheet and blanket tightly around me. I knew that I had been rescued, so it was probably safe to say that I wasn't in hostile territory. I still didn't know where I was or who was behind my rescue, however… for some reason, I felt very cold.

At the sound of the door opening, I opened my eyes in time to see a dark girl walk smoothly into the room, glancing around the boxes and tools. She had on a blue and orange outfit with a matching hairband, and seemed very familiar with the contents of the room. She turned in my direction and I frowned, unsure of what I was supposed to do.

She lost her grip on the two crystals that she was carrying, stumbled in an attempt to grab them, but ended up picking them off of the floor with a quiet chuckle. I raised an eyebrow at the odd display, but let it fall when she glanced back up with embarrassment evident on her features.

"You're awake," she said, immediately adopting a smile that seemed vaguely strained. She cocked her head slightly, prompting a reply.

I propped my head up with my hand. "Yes, I am." That was when I remembered that it was a girl who had saved me. "Were you the one who saved my life?" I asked quietly, eyes narrowed in curiosity.

She gave me a timid nod, and then replied with, "Yes, I picked you up in my heliscooter." She sat gingerly on the side of the bed, looking in my direction.

I couldn't stop myself from laughing as I scooted up into a sitting position. "Picked me up? That's an understatement."

She smiled – I could tell that this one was genuine – but it was quick to fade. "Why are you so calm? Aren't you upset?" she asked confusedly. Her eyes were still sympathetic.

"Upset?" I asked, quirking my eyebrow. "Why would I be upset?" My question hung in the air for a moment. "Well… if you mean the part where I was attacked by those 'Cyclonians' and then had to jump, I suppose I should be…" I trailed off, confused by the other girl's intent stare.

Her brown eyes widened. "Oh, that reminds me. I'm Piper," she said cautiously, eyeing me carefully.

"Oh, hello," I replied, acknowledging her introduction, even if it seemed more like a test than a greeting. "Hmm. I should probably tell you… since I woke up on that other ship, I can't seem to remember… well, anything, really," I murmured quietly. "I suppose I might have amnesia."

"Oh, that's… terrible!" After giving me a reassuring pat on the back, she stood up. "I'm going to see how breakfast is coming. I'll wake you up for it, don't worry. It's still pretty early…" she added, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It read 5:10. "Well, see ya," she finished, waving jovially at me as she strolled out.

"She's odd," I said to myself, dropping back down. I was still a little sore from my most recent escapade, so I was certainly happy about having an opportunity to continue resting before I had to, well, move around. I turned onto my side and my eyelids grew heavy again.

**(._.)**

"Morning!" Piper chirped from above me.

My eyes flicked open and I stared at her. "Good morning," I murmured, dazed from my slumber. I hadn't had any nightmares, so that was a good sign. I frowned when I considered that I'd only been asleep for – I consulted the clock – three hours… so much for my big achievement. Piper took a few steps backward as I pushed back the blanket and climbed out of the bed. I smoothed out my white shirt – wait, hold on…

Seeing my hesitation and confused expression, Piper coughed. "You were unconscious and you dripped some, uh, blood on your raider jacket," she explained.

I noticed that I wasn't wearing pants. However, I did have some underwear on. Thank goodness for that, at least…

"And your pants were oversized and… well, we needed some spare cloth," she added with a shrug. She shot a guilty smile in my direction when I narrowed my eyes at her. "I can show you to the bathroom if you wanna take a shower before breakfast," she offered, gesturing to the door.

"That would be great," I muttered. "Just make sure that you send some clothes my way. I'm feeling a little exposed."

Piper walked me down the hallway and stopped at a door. I glanced at her, and she gave me a small nod. "Here it is," she said. "Just lemme know when you're done." She waited until I stepped through before walking off.

"Let's see…" I murmured to myself as I walked in. I immediately saw exactly who I wanted to see. Above the sink, in the mirror, was my face. I raised an eyebrow and turned my head a few degrees from the left to the right, then stroked my chin a few times. Maybe I had some sort of subconscious reaction, but I didn't seem to recognize the pale stranger in the mirror at all. I rolled my eyes and undressed on my way into the shower, tossing my shirt in a basket that had some other crumpled-up clothes in it. I paused once I was inside and started glancing at my body. It was very strange to be in a body that I had no memory of. I frowned when I noticed that my ribs were visible – I was pale, I was a little too thin… what had happened to me before I woke up on that raider ship? Didn't the captain say they recovered me from a crash? But what had happened before then? I shook my head, dismissing such thoughts. Speculation would do me no good, I reminded myself. After all, what if I wouldn't _want_ to remember what had happened to me…? I reached for the faucet handle with a frown.

I exhaled slowly once I switched on the hot water and it began warming up. My eyes were closed and my head was angled down; water showered onto my head and shoulders, dripping off of my chin and flowing down my back. The warmth seemed to draw the soreness from my limbs, so for a while I just stood, enjoying myself thoroughly. I glanced around the shower and squeezed some of the shampoo into my hand – once I brought it near my nose, I realized that it was the same slight scent I had detected on my pillow. That must've been Piper's room, I thought. After all, I hadn't met anyone else who would be using floral shampoo. A knock at the door interrupted my reasoning.

"I'm just gonna leave these clothes inside the door," Piper called. I heard the door open and close, so I assumed she wasn't expecting an answer.

I rinsed the last of the vaguely floral shampoo from my dark hair and immediately began searching for soap. There was an oval-shaped object in a small alcove in the wall, so I snatched it up and inspected it. It was a bar of soap in a wrapper. "Well, she just plans for everything, doesn't she…?" I remarked, tearing it open. I reached out from behind the curtain and tossed the slightly soggy paper in the trash. I figured that I must've been obsessed about cleanliness in whatever life I led before my memories faded, because I wore a groove in the soap from where I'd been handling it, succeeded in turning the tips of my fingers wrinkly, and managed to use all of the hot water. I was done anyway, I thought with a shrug. I stepped out of the shower and firmly dried my hair with the towel, then made sure that the rest of me wasn't sopping wet, either. I hung the towel back up to dry and started fitting on the clothes that Piper had left. There was a label on the inside of the collar that read "Giovanni" in fancy font, but I wasn't quite sure what that meant. They were probably Piper's – like everything else that I'd come in contact with had been – but they fit well around my rather slim figure.

I inspected myself in the mirror. The shirt was finely-crafted with a blue top half, but from my midsection down it was red. The pants were solid blue with brown pads on the knees. I raised an eyebrow – these clothes seemed to be more like light armor than anything else, I noted, giving my knee a knock to test the ribbed leather. Whatever it was designed for, it was certainly of a high quality. The same went for the boots that matched the outfit – they were balanced and strong, but pretty light and comfortable. I glanced back up into the mirror. I snatched a comb from the sink counter and ran it through my hair, making sure that I looked presentable enough for the breakfast that I'd been invited to. My hair came down just short of my shoulders, and since I couldn't exactly remember anything regarding my hair or its former style, I decided to just comb it as straight as possible and swipe it to the right in the front to keep it reasonably manageable – with super-straight hair, there weren't very many quick, easy choices. I detected a glint of satisfaction in the eyes of the attractive stranger in the mirror when I saw the finished product.

"Excellent," I commented, flashing a smile. I placed the comb where I had found it and went into the hallway with a confident grin. My newfound confidence ebbed a bit when I took a look around, unsure of where exactly I was supposed to go.

"Oh, you're done!" Piper called from behind me. After I turned my head to face the side of the hallway to the right of the bathroom, I saw her walking up. "Here, I'll show you where the dining room is." She started leading me off down the left hall.

I shot her a glance. "You really need to stop doing that," I remarked with a small grin.

She glanced sideways at me with a raised eyebrow. "Doing what?" she asked curiously, not breaking her stride.

"Surprising me like that," I explained coyly. "So far, you've managed to get my attention when I'm either asleep or facing the other direction…"

Piper giggled bashfully and looked the other way. "Heh, sorry. I'll work on that… here we are!" she added, stopping at the end of the hallway. "I'm sure you'll like the guys."

"'The guys'," I repeated, nodding slowly. I shrugged and stepped through the door.

"…Yeah, but with what happened to Cyclonis, it doesn't make any sense," a young male voice reasoned. "The Cyclonians are definitely up to something odd. They opened fire on the Murk Raiders-…" he trailed off and looked behind him, obviously hearing my footsteps. I stopped and looked over the people sitting at the table. There was a rather large brown fellow with pointy ears and a little horn atop his nose sitting to the right of a thin blond-haired young man who had his elbows on the table. To his left, there sat the owner of the voice I'd heard when I entered. He was a redheaded young man with bright green eyes – he was staring at me with a blank expression, as was a little blue furry creature at the base of his chair.

I glanced between the people sitting at the table again, and this time they were all staring at me with equally blank expressions, which I returned with a blank expression of my own. "Hello," I greeted. I coughed quietly into my balled-up hand when my voice came out a tad raspy. Since they were still staring at me in silence, I uncurled my hand and waved at them.

"Hi," the redhead said, seeming to be the first to make an effort to break the awkwardness of the situation. "Piper told us you were coming to breakfast… I'm Aerrow."

Taking the cue immediately, the blond one raised his hand in a casual wave. "'Sup. I'm Finn… hero of Vapos, maybe you've heard of me," he added, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin, arms crossed behind his head. He seemed to change his mind suddenly, adopting a look of uncertainty. "Or not…"

The young man to his right – the one with the little horn on his nose – elbowed Finn in the side, probably because of his statement (Which at that point, I had realized may have been a reference to my memory loss). "Well, uh, I'm Junko," he said timidly, which was odd considering he was the biggest one in the room. He didn't seem to have much else to say.

I glanced down at the little blue furry creature who was hailing me down with hand gestures. He made a few sounds and crossed his arms, looking at me pointedly. I waved back.

"And that's Radarr," Aerrow added, pointing at the blue thing.

"Well, I'd introduce myself… but I'm not exactly sure what name I'd give you," I remarked, stepping gingerly toward one of the four vacant seats around the circular dinner table. Piper patted me on the back, which startled me since I'd almost forgotten that she was there; she nodded at the seat, and I glanced around to see expressions of approval at my selection. I sat down quietly, and Piper chose the seat to the left of mine.

"Well," Aerrow the redhead began, drawing my eyes immediately. "We've been thinking about that for a while. Piper told us you had amnesia…" He looked at Piper, who nodded. "So, we've been thinking of what to, uh… name you."

"'Name me'?" I repeated blankly, glancing between the seated people. Finn and Junko seemed enthusiastic about the prospect of selecting a name for me.

"Having something to call you would make things a lot simpler," Piper chimed in from beside me.

"Ooh, ooh, I used to know this _total_ babe named Tia…" Finn began, intoning her name with reverence.

Piper scoffed. "More like you saw her once in Vapos and thought she loved you," she muttered with a roll of her eyes.

Finn didn't seem to let Piper's words bother him. "Piper, _everyone_ in Vapos loves me," he said smugly, flashing a grin.

"Right…" Piper said. She furrowed her brow in thought for a few seconds and then glanced up. "How about 'Lenore' after the philosopher who wrote the original Atmosian-…"

"I don't think she wants to be named after a stuffy old philoso-whatever," Finn interrupted with a grin. He shot a confident smile in my direction, looking like he'd saved me from a fate worse than death. "Chicka-cha," he added. I found myself chuckling quietly.

"What about… uh," Junko began, still looking at me with a rather shy expression. I briefly wondered if he was nervous around strangers, but I decided that I was more of an elevated stranger considering how our meeting came about and how I sort of lacked an identity… "Oh, I dunno," he finished with a shrug.

I glanced over at Radarr, since he had been making several chirping noises. Once I was looking at him, he made a few hand gestures which I supposed might have been a suggestion, but I had no way of knowing what exactly it was. He shrugged.

"What about 'Celine'?" Aerrow suggested. "That was a Sky Knight from a while ago, I think…"

"Celine _was_ a Sky Knight, Aerrow, but she was around many years ago, in the Golden Age of-…" Piper was cut off again.

"Piper," Finn interrupted, cocking his head a bit arrogantly. "She might like the name. Try not to ruin it." After he gave her his advice, he smiled in my way again, pointing at me with each of his hands.

"Well," I started, taking Finn's cue. "I suppose 'Celine' would be fine. Thank you." I wasn't sure of what else to say, but my gratitude seemed to have a positive effect on the group. Even Junko brightened considerably.

The door several feet behind Aerrow opened. A green fellow with black hair hanging down from his head and pretty bad posture stepped through cautiously, glancing around the table. He was wearing a pink apron. "Sorry I'm… late," he said carefully, freezing when his gaze met mine. His eye began twitching. After Piper cleared her throat, he seemed to snap out of it and walked a few more steps closer to the table. He was just about across the table from me. After he coughed into his hand a few times, he seemed to regain his composure. "I'm Stork," he said quietly, giving me a grim nod. After a few more awkward seconds, his face broke out in a dark grin.

"Well, apparently my name is Celine," I informed him.

"'Celine', huh?" he repeated, glancing around. "I think I read something about a 'Celine' once… pancakes are almost ready… I'll go get them," he intoned ominously, creeping out of the room with a twitchy stare.

I glanced around the table at my new acquaintances. I wasn't really sure of who they were or what they did past their names. All I knew was that Piper had saved my life, and by extension I suppose they all had. "Piper," I began, pausing while she turned to face me. "Why did you save me? Why were you all even there?"

"Well, I saved you because I saw someone jump from the raiders' ship," Piper explained. She looked as if she was about to continue, but Aerrow interrupted.

"And we were there because the Cyclonians were bringing a fleet of destroyers to do something," Aerrow said. "We're… not really sure what they're up to, but it must be important if they're risking what little they have left."

I nodded, mulling over their words. "'What little they have left'…? Who are these 'Cyclonians', anyway?" I asked with genuine curiosity.

"Breakfast is here!" Stork called, stepping carefully into the room with a stack of plates on one hand and a stack of pancakes on one plate in another. He placed the plate of pancakes in the center of the table and shuffled out the plates for each person sitting, including me.

"Maybe my question can wait for a while," I remarked, eyeing the pancakes – only then did I realize how hungry I had been. When my belly made a small growling sound, everyone looked up. There were about three seconds of awkward silence, but then everyone burst into laughter. "Very funny," I said with a roll of my eyes… but before too long, I found myself laughing with them.


	3. Light

I wanted to know who the Cyclonians were, and I got my wish. Aerrow recounted numerous anecdotes regarding his team's – the "Storm Hawks" is what he said they were called – triumphs against the evil Cyclonian Empire over breakfast, along with some explanations of key players in their leadership.

"And, well, the leaders of the Talons – the Cyclonians' 'elite' air force – like Ravess, Snipe, and the Dark Ace, all managed to get banished by Master Cyclonis. Or worse…" Aerrow added grimly.

I cocked my head a few degrees to the side. "'Master Cyclonis'?" I repeated curiously. "Who's he?"

After everyone at the table – except Piper, for some reason – burst into uproarious laughter, I frowned. Even Aerrow was laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked quietly.

Finn brushed a tear from his eye with an overdramatic sweep of his hand. "Cyclonis… is a chick," he explained before succumbing to another laughing fit.

I glanced to my left when Piper's chair made a dragging sound. She was standing up. "I'm just going to go to my room… I need to work on something," she said mutely, then paced out of the room without waiting for a reply. Everyone's laughter diminished and then stopped altogether.

Finn asked, "What's up with Piper?" His question was met with shrugs.

Once they began discussing something unrelated to the previous topic, I stood and – after a few of them glanced up at me – explained that I was going to talk to Piper. True to my word, I paced down the hallway. Since the bathroom was down the other corridor from Piper's room, I thought, it should be easy to retrace my steps. My boots were creating echoing metallic footsteps down the empty hall, and I found them rather unnerving.

I heard a quiet "_eep_" from in front of me, and I looked up to see Stork, the thin green person. I briefly considered his greenness and realized that I had seen people like him before…

"Sorry," I said with a shrug. "I was coming around the corner."

"Oh, it's fine," he said lowly, seeming to regain his composure slightly. "You must've finished… breakfast."

"Yes, I did," I replied, then frowned. "I'm sorry, but could you tell me what you are, exactly? This is the amnesia talking."

"Oh, I'm a Merb," Stork said in a reasonable tone. "I figured you'd know that…" he added darkly with a small twitch of the eye. "That reminds me… was it you who got the Murk Raiders to charge the Cyclonians?"

I blinked in surprise. How did he know that was me? "Why, yes. How'd you know?" I asked, mirroring my thoughts in my question.

"Didn't seem like a Murk Raider plan," he remarked offhandedly. He narrowed his eyes. "How did you work out that kind of strategy if you couldn't remember anything?"

His question caught me off guard. I decided to reply honestly. "I'm not sure," I said quietly, raising an eyebrow at his paranoid stare. "It just popped into my head."

He seemed to study me for a few seconds, and then flashed a dark smile. "Just wondering… you can never be too careful. Whatcha doing now, hmm?" His scrutinizing eyes were on mine again.

"I'm going to see how Piper's doing. She left sort of abruptly…" I explained, feeling like I was the person-sized equivalent of a bug underneath a magnifying glass. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Oh, just heading back to the bridge… someone has to keep the ship on course, you know," he added with a thumbs-up gesture. "I'm… gonna go now."

I nodded at him politely and then continued on my way. I went past a few of the doors that Piper and I had passed earlier when she was leading me around, but I slowed down a bit when I saw that her door was open. When I finally reached it and looked inside, Piper was sitting on a stool in front of a dull metal workbench with some crystals and papers placed on it. Her head was propped up by one of her hands, and her other one was toying absently with a blue crystal. Standing at her open door, I knocked twice on the wall.

"Mind if I come in?" I asked quietly.

She turned to face me, and then she shook her head. "Not at all. Come on in if you want."

I took a few steps into her room and paused near her stool. She had turned to face her crystal again, and I felt awkward just standing there. "Why'd you leave like that?"

"Like what?" she asked flatly, not taking her eyes off of her crystal. It started to glow a slightly lighter blue.

I turned around and leaned against the wall next to her workbench. "You seemed like something was bothering you," I said with a frown. "Is there something wrong?"

She stared up at me as if she was deciding whether or not she should say something. Then she looked down at her crystal with a sigh.

"None of us have wanted to talk about Cyclonis since the incident in the Far Side," Piper began slowly. "So, I guess I was just surprised that she was mentioned so… casually."

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously. "Isn't she a Cyclonian? What happened?"

Piper frowned and continued toying with her crystal. "She _was_ their leader. It… was bad," Piper began to explain, slight strain evident on her features. "There's this place called the Far Side of Atmos, and she went there after the last battle against Cyclonia," she said slowly, probably because she was trying to dumb it down so that someone with little understanding of the world's recent events could comprehend it. "She was cornered and outnumbered by, well, us… and she ended up trying to use the power of her crystals to…"

My vacant stare must've caused her to trail off.

"You don't want to hear this, do you?" she asked forlornly, avoiding eye contact with me.

I shook my head. "No, I just don't understand this whole 'crystal' thing," I said with a frown.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then glanced between me and her blue crystal. "In Atmos, there are crystals of different shapes and colors that all have some amount of power and usually an inherent effect…" She seemed to brighten a little bit at the prospect of playing teacher. "But Cyclonis had an ability to manipulate the power of crystals by changing their effects at will to suit her purposes… to bind them to her will, per se. It's called 'binding'," she explained, and then paused. "I can do it, too."

I found her explanation interesting, if a tad accelerated for my tiny understanding of the topic. "Well… then what did Cyclonis do?"

Her mouth formed a straight line and she glanced down. "Well, prior to then both she and I had used crystals to bind power into someone else, acting as a sort of conductor of energy… but she tried to bind the power into herself." She began passing the crystal from her left hand to her right hand as a nervous gesture, taking occasional glances at me.

"What then?" I asked quietly from my leaning position on the wall.

She took a deep breath. "We were standing in a vaulted room in this huge crystal structure, and Aerrow told her to surrender. She refused, and she started channeling crystal power into herself." She adopted a sort of distant stare, seeming to look right through the crystal she kept toying with. "She started crystallizing from her feet up. She fell. It was frightening," she remarked absently. "She… crawled but stopped after a little while… then she started calling for me to help."

That was a little surprising, since it was coming from who she had said was her first enemy. "Did you?" I asked with a frown.

She stared up at me and paused for a few seconds, brown eyes filled with what seemed like regret. "No."

I raised an eyebrow, but looked away. "That… that must've been difficult."

She was looking sullenly at her crystal again when she decided to reply. "Well… I don't think I could've done anything for her… I didn't want to work with my crystals for a while after that, but I guess I got over it after a while."

"How'd you learn about all these crystals?" I asked, glancing around at the crates in her room. I could tell she wanted a change of topic, anyway.

She adopted a small odd smile. "Well, I just managed to teach myself over the years. It wasn't easy, though…"

I found myself staring at the gently glowing crystal in her hands. "Do you think you might want to teach me about them sometime?" I asked, honestly interested in the topic that she seemed so fascinated with – and I knew so little about. "I'm a little out of touch."

She regarded me with a curious expression. "Sure…" she said after a few seconds, breaking out into a smile. "I'd like that."

"_We're near Terra Atmosia… if anyone was wondering,_" Stork's amplified voice called over the loudspeaker.

"Oh, great," Piper said. She stood up and left her crystal on her workbench, then started walking out of the open doorway with a backward beckoning wave for me to follow.

"'Terra Atmosia'?" I asked with uncertainty evident in my speech.

She glanced back at me. "It's a very developed terra where we can get some supplies," she explained. "We're running low on food, and I needed to try to look for a little something-something in the town library. Wanna come along… Celine?" she asked experimentally, curving her eyebrow up in a sympathetic arc.

"Oh, that would be fine," I said, leaning forward off of the wall.

We walked at a relaxed pace down the hall, and she described the way that the crystals that were used in the ship's – the _Condor_'s – engines functioned. I found it to be a little over my head, but I was glad that I was finally beginning to learn something about the world I'd been dropped into rather than by going on instinct and whatever assistance my subconscious had to offer. The door to the landing bay slid open right as our conversation had just about reached its conclusion, and the blond-haired member of the "Storm Hawks" popped up near me almost immediately while the rest of the team – aside from Piper, that is – were tending to their vehicles.

"Hey, uh, Celine," he began, glancing between me and something held in his hands. "Aerrow thought it'd be a good idea to give you some goggles, you know, since you're probably not used to flying… and… whatever?"

I raised an eyebrow since he seemed to be conveying the goggle-giving idea a tad awkwardly, but then I had a flashback to my escapade on the Murk Raider ship – or, more specifically, flying _down from_ the Murk Raider ship – and decided that anything to lessen the effects of what may very well be my first open flight would be welcome.

"Sure, thank you," I said, accepting the pair of goggles. They were slim and of a gray-black color with subtly blue-tinted lenses. Since he kept staring at me expectantly, I pulled them on. There wasn't any noticeable color change, so I assumed the color was one-way only.

"Looking good," Finn stated with an additional "chicka-cha" sound effect.

I felt a small smile creep onto my face. I wondered if Finn was that much of a goofball all the time. "Thanks."

"…Celine," Piper said, prompting me to turn around. She was sitting on the heliscooter with her hands on the controls. "We're gonna head out."

I stood uncertainly to the side of the vehicle, and decided to toss my leg over it and hop on timidly. I wasn't sure if I'd ever ridden any kind of personal aircraft like this, but the idea seemed a little… dangerous?

"We're gonna go ahead of the _Condor_ and land in Atmosia," Piper explained, jarring me from my skeptical thoughts. "Stork'll land there after us, and then we'll deal with a few errands."

I nodded, since the plan seemed simple enough.

"Last one to the tree does the dishes for a week!" Finn called out from his skimmer.

"You're on!" Aerrow replied.

Oh, dear…

The landing bay doors opened abruptly and everyone revved their craft's engines and then shot forward – including Piper and I on our little heliscooter. That was the first encounter with the bright blue expanse of the open Atmos that I could remember.

**(._.)**

A Cyclonian flagship scraped and scarred by a number of skirmishes rumbled through the clouds, stressed hull groaning in protest. Cyclonian troops – soldiers of a nation that no longer existed – busied themselves with the controls on the bridge while a robed individual with a feminine form stared down intensely at a radar display. The definite red blip pinging every few seconds demanded all of the hooded lady's attention, so much so that she didn't bother to glance down when she adjusted her collar which bore the insignia of the Cyclonian Empire.

"M-master," one of the many soldiers on the bridge said to her back.

She straightened a bit and shot the soldier a sideways glance. "Speak," she ordered, voice coming out cold and devoid of emotion.

"M-master," the soldier stuttered again. "We're approaching another one of the locations where a crystal energy signature is that matches the, um, red one."

After a brief pause, the hooded lady nodded. "Very well. Inform me if anyone decides to play hero and interrupt our operation... especially if it's those… _Storm Hawks_," she added in a hiss of distaste.

The Cyclonian nodded silently and bowed, departing for whatever further duties were expected of him.

"If they dare show their faces… and they always do…" the Master of Cyclonia murmured to herself, twisting her mouth into a grimace. She clenched her fist. "I will crush them."

**(._.)**

The Storm Hawks' vehicles skidded to a halt at the edge of the town at around the same time, and I followed Piper's cue when she hopped off of her scooter and started running toward a tree in a small town square. Aerrow and Radarr were in the lead, and they managed to slap their hands against the bark with enough time left over for Aerrow to flash a grin at everyone who was still running for it. Junko was next, followed by Piper. I pressed my hand against the tree with a blank expression, breathing slightly heavier than usual due to the sprinting.

"Aw, geez," Finn muttered. I looked over and saw that he had stopped a few feet away when he realized that he was the last to reach the tree.

"Looks like you're doing all the dishes for a week, Finn," Piper pointed out with a giggle. I smiled to myself.

"That's not fair," Finn insisted sulkily, staring down at his shoes.

"_Condor'_s parked," Stork said flatly, pacing past Finn. He stopped between our group and Finn, and then raised an eyebrow. After a small smile crept onto his face, he continued walking calmly to the tree and put his hand on it.

"Wh-…" Finn began, eyes almost bulging out of his head. "You weren't even playing!" he accused, pointing at Stork and glancing hysterically between him and us. He faltered. "…Were you?"

I couldn't help myself, so I broke out in laughter along with the rest of the team – excluding Finn, of course.

"Alright, team," Aerrow said once the laughter had subsided. "Stork, Radarr, and I are going to see if we can find a few parts for the _Condor_. Junko, Finn: we need you to pick up some food supplies. Try to get something that everyone will be able to eat. Er… like," he corrected.

"I need to head to the library," Piper said. She looked at me briefly. "Wanna come?"

I nodded. "Sure."

The team split into their groups – even disconsolate Finn – and departed for the sections of town appropriate for their missions. I walked carefully beside Piper, glancing around for the library we were supposedly heading toward. There were small stores to the left and right down the cobblestone street, all in soft colors ranging from gray to pale blue. A few people were out walking, but it definitely wasn't crowded.

"Hm… Celine?" Piper began from my right.

"Yes?" I glanced over at her, and she was still facing forward.

"Do you remember Atmosia?" she asked carefully. "Like, does anything seem familiar?"

"Not really," I murmured. "Maybe. I'm not sure."

"Oh."

After a pause, I continued. "Why do you ask?" I asked with a questioning glance.

"Well, it's a big terra and it gets a lot of visitors," she explained. "So, I figured maybe…"

"I see."

"Here's the library," she said quickly, veering to the right.

I trailed behind her as she reached the door to a large building on the right side of the road composed of pale red bricks. I followed her inside, and was met with a relatively dimly-lit, musty room filled with rows and rows of shelves upon shelves of books. It contrasted sharply with the bright, open scene on the outside. I sneezed. I shook my head to clear the awkward sneezing feeling, and saw that Piper had crossed over to the counter. There was an elderly man going through a few papers behind it. He looked up.

"Ah, s'you again," he muttered, shuffling the papers into a neat pile and setting them aside. "The, uh, crystal expert. You were lookin' for that old Nil tome, huh?"

Piper nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"Hmm, hmm… just so happens I managed to lay m'hands on one of 'em for ya," he muttered, dropping to a knee to go through a cabinet under the counter. "Wasn't easy, y'know. Nil book's from the Golden Age. Ain't much of 'em left." He stood and dropped a thick, leather-bound book on the counter. "Anything else I can get ya?"

"Actually, do you have any books on advanced crystal matrices?" Piper asked.

"Oh, that'd be in the research section near the back," the old man said, nodding in the far corner of the library with his head. "Just lemme know what you wanna check out."

"Thanks," Piper said. She made a beckoning motion with her hand and started going down between the rows of bookshelves. I followed.

"Crystal matrices… that sounds complicated," I remarked, pausing when Piper stopped to crouch at the base of a shelf.

"It _is_ pretty complex," Piper admitted. I glanced down at the book she was thumbing through, and it had a diagram of a crystal – complete with complicated structural information linked with cross-references to other points – on the left page with a solid wall of numbers and symbols on the opposing one.

I started glancing nonchalantly around the bookshelf opposite the crystal research one while considering the fact that I might have to learn what all of the things on that page meant under Piper's tutelage. While trying to decide whether my request to be taught about crystals was a wise one or not, one of the books caught my eye. It read "_The Legend of Celine: Sky Knight_" in faded letters along its worn, leathery spine. I drew my hand close to the book and pulled it free of its neighbors – all old stories.

The book was heavy and clearly meant to last. I casually flipped it open and stared at the first page. The title was repeated in an ornate font, along with a seal under it that looked a bit like a bird.

"What are you looking at?" Piper asked from behind my book. I slammed it shut and stared at her blankly. She was standing with her chosen books under her arm, looking at me with a raised eyebrow and a frown.

"…I found a book about the 'Celine' that you all named me after," I replied quietly, holding the book with the cover facing her.

Piper raised an eyebrow and glanced at it. "Oh, neat. Here, give it to me and I'll check it out, too." She paused briefly while I handed the book over. After my hands were free, she turned to the left in the direction of the front counter. "I could ask if they have anything else about her, if you're interested…" she trailed off, glancing back at me.

"That would be great." I smiled, but then sneezed almost immediately afterward. "…You know, I think I'll wait outside. It's rather stuffy in here."

She nodded. "That's fine. I need to look for something else… I shouldn't be too long."

I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that I'd be out of the dim, dusty library – it was beginning to make me feel sick, and my nose kept tickling. I didn't glance at anyone or anything on my way out. When I reached it, I pulled open the door and stepped out into the light.


	4. Foreboding

**[ Author's Note:**

**Hi. I don't really have much to say except that you should probably review. It kinda makes my writing feel worth it in a badass way.**

**~CWO ]**

While it felt nice to be out in the fresh air, my moment of peace was short-lived.

"I don't want any trouble," I heard someone state firmly. When I glanced to the right where the sound was coming from, I saw a pale, thin gaunt man in ragged clothes standing his ground in front of two younger, larger men with clothes of a far greater quality.

"Damn right you don't," the young man on the left snapped. He glanced at his partner. "Can you believe this Cyclonian? Trying to get a job in Atmosia? Ha!"

People who were walking around the street averted their eyes and avoided the area where the men were intimidating the elder.

"Better teach him a lesson," the second man stated gravely.

"I meant no harm," the pale man insisted.

I found myself stomping down the street in a straight line over to them. As the first man laughed loudly and drew his arms up to shove the old Cyclonian, I stopped behind them.

"Hey!" I shouted.

They turned around with blank expressions and then stared down at me with beady eyes; narrow, accusatory. The old man looked at me sadly.

"That man didn't do anything to deserve this," I said furiously. "Leave him alone."

The slightly bigger Atmosian on the left looked briefly at his friend. "Want me to deal with this Cyclonian punk?"

I was about to yell at him to not ignore me, but then I realized that _I_ was the Cyclonian punk he was talking about. I was at a loss for words.

"No, I got her," the other one replied with a grim chuckle. As he stepped toward me, my heartbeat sped up and I was suddenly panicking. I glanced around for some form of assistance, but before I knew it his hand was around my left wrist.

I yanked my left arm back and then slammed my right elbow into his gut. His grip slackened and he doubled over, so I cupped my hands around the back of his head. I kicked my knee up several times, slamming his head into it until I heard a dull snap – that was when I let him drop. When he hit the cobblestone, facedown, a small trail of red began seeping from his hidden face, crawling in the gaps between the stones. He didn't move.

"Oh…" I breathed, horror setting in. I hadn't meant to attack him. It was just some kind of reflex. I asked myself, was he… dead? When I glanced up, question still echoing in my head, his friend was staring between the downed Atmosian and me with his mouth hanging open.

"Damn… Cyclonians," he muttered. Once he seemed to regain his composure, he snapped his knuckles and took a step toward me. I instinctively took a step backward, not sure that I'd be able to take down a second person when I hadn't even realized I had taken down the first.

"Step away from the girl," someone called. Past my would-be attacker, two thin, wiry young men were pacing up slowly. Oddly, the first thing I noticed about them was their good posture.

The Atmosian spun around, disoriented and obviously intimidated. "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave," the first one stated coolly. "Can you do that?"

"I'm not gonna listen to any Cyclonian prick that tries to order me around," he snapped back, but his nerve was failing. As I examined the two newcomers, I noticed that they were just as thin and pale as the old man was.

"There's been enough violence today. Please leave," he insisted, stopping just next to the old man. The newcomer had dark hair and a small moustache, and his partner had his hair buzzed down in a militant cut.

"You'll pay for this," the second attacker growled, dropping his hands by his sides. He began walking away, giving us occasional glares back.

"Are you hurt?" the sympathetic voice of my rescuer asked, and as I glanced over to him I saw that the expression in his voice was mirrored in the expression on his face.

"No," I replied quietly. "But I think the guy I attacked might be."

"That may be true," he admitted, dropping to his knee.

He rolled the injured man over, and I inspected my handiwork with a frown. His nose looked crushed, so that was where all the blood had been coming from…

"He's breathing," he remarked. He glanced up at me. "I'm Louis. And you are?"

"I'm Celine," I answered.

He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Leopold, could you take this man to the hospital?" he asked, looking up at the man standing next to him. He nodded, and tossed the unconscious man over his shoulder with a quiet grunt. Once he'd shuffled off, it was just Louis, the old man, and I.

"Thank you for standing up for my father," Louis said, nodding at the elder.

"Oh. I felt compelled to help." I frowned. "Why were they bothering you?" I asked Louis's father.

The old man's submissive air seemed to boil off almost immediately. "I'll tell you why they were bothering me," he growled, glancing about with a silent fury in his eyes. "They were bothering me because they can't handle the fact that Cyclonians – the same people these Atmosians were cowering in fear of just a few months ago – have to try to get work to stay alive. They can't handle the fact that we Cyclonians are hungry and'll work cheaper than they will. And they most certainly can't handle the fact that we manage to scrape on by, sacrificing our stomachs but never, _never _our dignity." He grimaced, and rubbed his hands together, still simmering in anger.

I stood, awed, in the wake of his monologue.

"Cyclonia'll rise again. I guarantee it. As long as Cyclonians' hearts still beat and Cyclonian ships still fly through the Atmos, Cyclonia's gonna come back. Master Cyclonis'll right the wrongs these Atmosians are foisting on us…"

"Master Cyclonis? I thought Cyclonis was… well, dead," I murmured as inoffensively as I could.

The old man shook his head. "Master Cyclonis ain't dead. Rumor has it that she's back, assembling an army of the remnants of the Cyclonian Royal Fleet. I'm gonna put my faith in those rumors." Lines of worry embedded themselves in his face. "Those rumors are the only thing that men like me can cling to these days."

"But Cyclonia lost," I reasoned. "Even if Cyclonis is alive, how would you expect her to 'right the wrongs'?"

The old man stared at me, hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged. "I guess every Cyclonian is part furious at her for losing, part furious at everyone else in the Atmos for winning, and part furious at ourselves because she's the only one who could possibly get us out of the situation we're in." He sighed.

"Besides," Louis interrupted, "it's either put our faith in Master Cyclonis, or resign to the knowledge that without food, jobs, and shelter for Cyclonian refuges, we're all going to starve and be scattered like dust in a storm." He paused, raising an eyebrow at me. "Have you seen the refugee camps?"

"I can't say I have," I replied with a frown.

"Wait a minute," the old man muttered. "You can't possibly be a Cyclonian." He was regarding me with a critical gaze. "I mean, you'd know all this… and you've got some fancy clothes, too. Why'd you stick your neck out for me?"

"You're right, I'm not," I admitted. "I just helped because I knew they were wrong. Why would anyone bother someone just because of what side they were on in a war that's over? Besides, you're not different. We're all people."

"If more people shared that belief, then there wouldn't be a need for us Cyclonians to cling to rumors while we all wear down and die," Louis mused quietly, stroking his chin. He glanced up at me with a pointed stare. "Thanks again, Celine. If you're ever in Atmosia again, rest assured that you've got friends." After turning away, he paused and glanced back. "That is, if we're still here… for one reason or another."

"Thank you, young lady," the old man said with a tiny bow of his head.

"Bye," I murmured, giving them a small wave as they walked off, down the street. I glanced around, unsure of what I should do next.

"Celine!" Piper called. Upon turning around, I saw that she was walking up to me from the direction of the library with some books in tow. "What happened? I heard some people talking about a fight."

I examined the area. It was more or less deserted. "Well, yes, there was a fight on the street…" I trailed off, staring at Piper timidly.

"And? What happened?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not really sure," I lied quietly. I shouldn't worry her, I reasoned. "I think it ended before I came up…"

Her expression softened. "Oh, good," she said with a relieved sigh. To my confused expression, she added, "Wouldn't want your first impression of Atmosia to be a bad one, right?"

I nodded. "So, what's next?"

She shrugged. "I got the books I wanted," she mentioned. "Oh, and the one you picked out… although, there was one more book that mentioned something about Sky Knight Celine," she said, nodding at the pile of books under her arm. "Something about skimmers, I think."

"That's odd," I remarked offhandedly.

"So I guess we'd better head back to my heliscooter," she suggested. "I bet the guys are done with their errands, too."

"Okay," I replied. When I noticed that she shuffled the books in her hands in an attempt to get a better grip on them, I chuckled. One of the crystal books was rather large. "Need some help with those?"

**(._.)**

"Master Cyclonis," a tall Cyclonian soldier greeted with a bow. "You summoned me?"

In response to his greeting, she looked up slowly. "At ease. What is the status of the red crystal operation?" she asked from her seat at the center of the bridge.

The soldier straightened. "We've recovered the second red crystal – they have a large energy signature that's very easy to track as long as they're outdoors… the third one has been located, and we're moving in to retrieve it now."

She grinned from underneath her hood. "That's good. That's very good. And no sign of the Storm Hawks, or any Sky Knights for that matter?"

"None, Master Cyclonis," he replied.

"Excellent," she added. "Time is of the essence. The power in those crystals is massive… they will be very, very useful in the days to come. Return to your station."

"Yes, master," he said quietly.

**(._.)**

After I threw my leg across the heliscooter seat and braced myself for takeoff, we began picking up speed and then bobbed up when the rotor engaged. Once we soared out of and above Atmosia, I saw the dots of the rest of the team flying above us in the direction of the carrier. For some odd reason, I remembered that I was wearing googles. They sure were comfortable.

"It's such a pretty day," Piper remarked.

And it was true. The sky was blue, the clouds were light and fluffy… but the _Condor_ seemed to be flying faster than it should've been.

"_Help, help! Mayday!" _Stork's voice came out scratchy and panicked from the heliscooter radio.

"Stork, what's wrong?" Piper asked in a concerned tone.

"_Cyclonians… a flagship! They've spotted me and they're about to open fire!" _he squeaked from the other end. I saw the _Condor _take a pronounced dip as a volley of bright red balls of energy barely missed. Where were the shots coming from? There was a large cloud formation past the _Condor, _and I couldn't see past it… that was when a massive, sleek destroyer that seemed differently shaped from those I'd encountered in Terra Deep faded into sight once it pushed through its cloudy camouflage.

"Storm Hawks, attack!" Aerrow called from several feet above us. He and his wingmen pulled into position in front of us with Piper's heliscooter forming the rear point in a diamond formation.

Once we shot past the retreating _Condor, _the destroyer's cannons began tracking us instead of Stork. Since we were smaller targets, it was difficult for the heavy guns to get a lead on our trajectories to score a direct hit. That's probably why they sent out Cyclonian fighters.

"Talons!" Finn called, readying his crossbow.

"What should we be doing?" I asked Piper.

"We should be distracting them from Stork while he can get far enough away to support us without getting blasted!" she replied. "There's an anti-air crossbow I've been working on in the side compartment!"

I glanced around the side of my seat, and – sure enough – there was a small compartment with a long, slim crossbow with what seemed to be an ammunition case. I dropped the case between my legs on the seat and held the bow firmly in my right hand. A Talon fighter zipped past our formation – the first of about five more – blasting energy as he went. None of the shots hit, fortunately. Finn's shot did, however – I could see that once the first Talon spun into a downward spiral and engaged his parachute.

I pushed one of the slim gray boxes from the ammunition case into an empty slot in the crossbow and then took aim at the nearest Talon. He was banking around in a semicircle for another run. If Finn had been firing rocks, I was firing bowling balls – I fired a strong bolt of energy that landed on the back, left side of the Talon's Switchblade fighter. That glancing blow didn't break anything off or cause that much damage, but it was enough to start him spinning uncontrollably.

Right at us.

"Dodge it!" I pleaded Piper. We lurched to the right just as one of the wings of the Switchblade smacked into the side of our heliscooter, tossing it into a spiral. Our heliscooter flew one direction, the Talon flew in another, and I was jarred off and began yet another fun free fall.

"Waaaaaaah!" I yelled, clawing uselessly at the air once my crossbow flew free of my grasp. I glanced up and saw that Piper was still dealing with bringing the heliscooter back under control. The rest of the squad was nowhere to be found. I immediately reached around and tried to engage my parachute – nothing happened.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar roar of an aircraft losing altitude near me and looked to my right to see the same Switchblade that had crashed into our heliscooter. It was falling at a speed slightly faster than mine, but I took my chances and leaned into the craft, grasping it firmly by the handlebars. I flopped for a second or two while I tried to bring the rest of my body into a sitting position, but I eventually braced myself against the rippling wind and sat at the controls.

I was still losing altitude at a horrific speed, and now I was about to break through the cloud layer to the wastelands below. I yanked viciously at the handlebars, trying to pull myself out of the dive. The Switchblade began pulling up slightly, but I wasn't certain how close the ground in the wasteland was to the cloud layer, so I was panicking. I kept descending even though my trajectory was beginning to level off… once the Switchblade's lower wings were touching the clouds above the wastelands, I finally managed to pull up enough to level off completely.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but then I frowned. Why did I know how to fly this? I pondered that briefly, but then I noticed a small glint out of the corner of my eye. In front of me there was a small peak poking out of the clouds, and on it there was something red and shiny. I slowed my craft down and kept approaching until I could make out the red crystal stuck in the side of the rock. I leaned over as I passed it, and with a firm, passing tug I snatched it out of the loose hold of the rock and inspected it gingerly. It was a crystal, obviously… and it was red. I still didn't understand much about crystals, so I wasn't sure what is was or what it could do. I dropped it into the side storage compartment of my commandeered Switchblade. After a mental shrug, I gunned the engine and pulled up sharply in the direction of the _Condor_-shaped fuzzy dot in the distance.

It seemed like Aerrow and the team had managed to repel the Cyclonian forces, so I continued gaining altitude until I was on the same vertical level as the _Condor._ I leveled out – it was much easier going up than going down – and made a beeline for the landing bay. I made sure to wave in the direction of the bridge with wide, obvious sweeping motions to keep from being blasted by friendly fire. I toggled the transformation control and dropped to the landing strip with a thud. Then I hit the brakes and skidded to a halt just inside the landing bay entrance.

After making sure the Switchblade and I were intact, I looked up to see the team's parked skimmers and Piper, who was getting off of her heliscooter. The rest of the Storm Hawks were nowhere to be found.

"Celine!" she called, running up. I climbed off of the Switchblade, and before I knew what she was doing, she was squeezing me uncomfortably in a hug that was a little too tight.

After I could breathe again, I stared at her. "What was that for?"

"You're alive!" she squeaked. Her smile faded and she adopted a somber expression. "When I recovered from that impact, you were gone. I didn't know what to do…"

"Well, I had a parachute," I half-lied – just because it didn't engage didn't mean I didn't have one on me.

She grinned. "I guess so." She glanced around. "Everybody'll be glad to hear you're okay. The Cyclonians retreated when we damaged one of their engines – I think they must've been in a few fights before this one…"

"Oh, good. I found something when I was, uh, down there," I ventured, unlatching the storage compartment. When I lifted the large, asymmetrical crystal out of it, turned, and showed it to Piper, her eyes widened.

"What is this?" she asked mutely, holding out her hands.

I handed it over with a shrug. "I was hoping you'd be able to tell if it was anything interesting."

She looked up from the crystal and flashed a smile. "Maybe we could start your crystal lessons tomorrow."

I felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "That'd be great."


	5. Déjà Vu

After dinner, Aerrow told me to come with him to show me where I'd be staying.

"Oh, thanks," I began, but trailed off when the door next to me slid open.

The room was colored a pale lavender hue with an unsaturated yellow horizontal stripe at eye level. It had what looked like a reinforced metal closet, a few shelves, and a table with a few objects on and under it that I glanced over but didn't really focus on at the time. The bedspread on the bed at the end of the room matched the color of the walls – it must have been tricky to find.

"Wow. Thank you," I repeated, still taking in the scenery. I glanced back at Aerrow.

"Well, hey, don't mention it," he said a bit dryly, shrugging his shoulders. "We've had this room for a while… it used to be a storage room, but we made it into a guest bedroom when we thought about trying to get a friend to join the team." He paused for a moment, and then looked away. "Well, it's getting pretty late. G'night."

I nodded, and glanced back inside while he walked off. I took a few timid steps inside, and continued looking around. I noticed that someone – most likely Piper – had set the book about Celine, the Sky Knight on the shelf next to the bed. I sat down on top of the bedspread and picked it up.

I flipped past the cover and was once again greeted by that strange, birdlike insignia under the title. I was about to go to the next page, but I froze. I'd seen the symbol on the Cyclonian Switchblade I'd commandeered – it was the insignia of the Cyclonian Empire. I asked myself, why would the symbol of the Cyclonians be on a book about a Sky Knight? I went to the next page where the first chapter started and began reading.

According to the book, Terra Cyclonia was once an expansive land with lakes, forests, cities, and great wealth. During this worldwide golden age – still referred to as the Golden Age today – most of the terras were enjoying friendly relations and cooperation in the early days of aerial travel. When the title of Master of Cyclonia fell to the next heir to the throne in the Cyclonis family, the paranoid Master saw the increasing power and riches of other, nearby terras as a threat, especially when Terra Atmosia and its allies grew to a force equal to that of Terra Cyclonia and theirs.

Sky Knights had formed squadrons on their home terras during the first years of the Golden Age, but it was Terra Atmosia that sought to create an alliance of Sky Knights governed by its Sky Knight Council. Due to the possibility that the Sky Knights from Cyclonia's allied terras might swear fealty to the Atmosian council, a rival Cyclonian council was formed by that era's Master Cyclonis to manage the Cyclonian-aligned terras' Sky Knight squadrons. The greatest of all of those that were sworn to the defense of Cyclonia was the mysterious Sky Knight Celine – she would become the leader of the squadron of Terra Cyclonia itself.

I raised an eyebrow once the chapter was over. I was named after a Cyclonian Sky Knight? After that musing, I considered the fact that back then, Cyclonians weren't considered evil and it seemed to be a peaceful, prosperous place. I was pretty confident that it was just an interesting fluke, and the nationality of my namesake had nothing to do with the fact that it was, even historically, a perfectly reasonable name.

I folded the first page of chapter two's corner down to mark my place and placed it on the shelf. I sighed, deciding that I should probably prepare to go to sleep. I had a very long day, I'd reasoned. Once my clothes were folded and the blanket on my bed drawn back, I slipped under the sheet and dropped my head on the pillow. My thoughts gradually began to fade, and as I was nearing unconsciousness, my eyes snapped open.

Aerrow had said that my room was meant for someone they were planning on adding to the team. I furrowed my brow and wondered – had they all considered asking me to join the Storm Hawks? I knew they had saved me because, well, they're supposed to be the good guys, but what exactly – other than planning on asking me to join the team – could they be hoping to achieve by keeping me around? I frowned. Perhaps they were just waiting for my memories to return so that I could be dropped off wherever I remembered I lived, but…

I shook my thoughts away. It was pointless to lose sleep over such thoughts. Sure, judging from the day I'd had and the stories I'd heard about the Storm Hawks' past adventures, it seemed like being one of them would be rather fun. Then again, I considered, glancing at the ceiling, I wouldn't know how I'd feel about the situation if I suddenly regained my memories. What if my family was starving on some barren terra and I had to take care of small animals or tend to carrots to save their lives?

Okay! Just stop _thinking_ about things and go to sleep, I thought to myself, shutting my eyes tightly.

**(._.)**

When I opened my eyes, I was in the red-tinted nightmare world again. I carefully crossed a barren, rocky plain next to the wreckage of some great metal tower and eyed the foggy horizon. There seemed to be lava on the ground far away, cutting bright red gashes in the distant stone. Despite the distant lava, it was cold.

"Such a shame, isn't it?" a chilling voice called out from behind me.

This time I was less shocked at being surprised by someone calling from behind me, but I was startled yet again because I had been expecting to wake up upon turning around, like last time. Wait, I thought. No, this isn't real. It's a nightmare.

"How astute," the darkly-dressed figure in front of me muttered.

She was a thin girl with a dark, flowing robe that began with a hood that cloaked most of her face in shadow in the rather dim light. Twin sparkles gave me an idea of where her eyes were.

"Cat got your tongue?" she hissed. After she crossed her arms, she examined our barren surroundings in an exaggerated, overdramatic manner. "What a wonderful _place_," she murmured bitterly, dropping her hands by her sides.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know why my nightmares were choosing to display this dark character. She took a step toward me.

"You can read my thoughts?" I asked quietly, taking an involuntary step backward.

"Yes. This_ is_ a nightmare, isn't it?" she asked flatly. "Shouldn't I be able to do something… _scary…_ like that?"

I hesitated, but then nodded. "Who are you?" I asked.

"You already know the answer to _that_ question," she said, waving her hand dismissively. She did not break her stare.

I didn't think I did. I examined her, but since her face was obscured and I didn't recognize her outfit, I wasn't certain who she was at all. I then saw the Cyclonian emblem that was on the Switchblade I'd used and the book.

"You're a Cyclonian," I said slowly. Suddenly, I realized who she was. "You must be… Master Cyclonis."

She began clapping, albeit a bit sarcastically. "Correct," she said, and then dropped to a seat on a rock – or a crushed pillar or whatever kind of ruined stone structure it was – and looked up at me with a blank expression. "I needed to tell you a few things."

I hesitated. "Why me?" I asked cautiously. I sidestepped her spot and sat down on another crushed stone pile.

The corner of her mouth turned up in a grin. "That's not important right now. They call you Celine, don't they?" After I nodded, she continued with a firm stare. "Don't tell anyone about your dreams."

There was silence.

"That's it?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded. "Yes, for _now_. Now you can wake up."

"What?"

**(._.)**

My eyes flashed open, and I reflexively turned onto my side quickly, breathing rapidly. I looked up at the window, and I could see the sunrise's bright orange rays breaking through the blinds. I managed to calm myself once I realized that I was safe and awake, so I hopped off of the bed and took a few steps to the reinforced closet. I had a sense of curiosity about the closet, given its metal covering, so I gripped the handle and pulled it to the side.

"Hmm."

There were a few boxes of spare skimmer parts at the bottom of the closet, two pairs of boots, and some hung up clothes. I realized that the boots and clothes must have been placed there for me the previous day. Before I knew it, a smile had formed on my face.

While I was pulling my clothes on, I started thinking about my nightmare. I didn't know what to make of it – the dead (or maybe not so dead) leader of the Cyclonians decided to appear to me in a dream? Why? I dismissed it as a strange fluke.

Once I was sufficiently dressed, I decided that I should probably ask Piper about her crystal lessons, since she had said she would begin them that day. I stepped outside of my new room and began walking the short distance to her room. I rounded the corner, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes when I stopped. Someone was talking inside Piper's room. I carefully put my ear to the wall next to the door.

"...Fine, I guess," a male voice replied to something I didn't hear. It sounded like Aerrow. "Any idea what these red crystals are?"

"Not yet," Piper answered.

"Do you know if they have anything to do with Cyclonis…? Or the Far Side?"

"I have no idea."

"Alright, I'm gonna go see if…"

I broke away from the wall and slipped around the corner as the door opened. My heart was thudding in my chest as I heard Aerrow's footsteps fade, thankfully in the opposite direction. I sighed, wondering why I'd chosen to snoop and then hide – I just didn't want to seem like I was eavesdropping, I thought to myself. Whatever.

I counted to ten and then walked around the corner, trying to act normal. The door to Piper's room slid open and I stepped through it with what I hoped was a blank expression.

"Hi," I said, flashing a small smile.

Piper looked up. "Morning," she greeted back before turning her eyes to the red crystal on her workbench. A few tools were arrayed around it, but she was waving her hands, palms down, above the crystal.

I took the liberty of pulling another stool up to the table and sitting down to her right. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm trying to get a feel for this kind of crystal… I still don't know what it is," she mumbled, eyes closed. "It's strong. I mean, there's power in it. I just can't tell what kind, and I can't make it do anything, either…" She pulled her hands away with a defeated sigh and opened her eyes.

"That sounds tricky," I stated kind of uselessly with a sheepish smile – I was still mostly ignorant regarding crystals.

Piper chuckled and stood up. "I think I'm going to go grab us some breakfast. We can start your crystal lessons after, right?" she asked, looking back at me.

"Definitely," I replied. "Thanks."

"Hey, don't mention it," she said casually on her way out of the room.

I turned back to the workbench and scooted a few inches closer to it. I raised an eyebrow at the slightly glowing red crystal, and then placed my elbow on the table to prop my head up with my hand.

"You must be pretty rare if Piper can't tell what you are," I said to the crystal quietly.

I frowned when it seemed to shine slightly brighter for a few seconds, and then resume its normal glow. I continued staring at it but the effect wasn't repeated.

"Odd," I muttered – then it glowed slightly stronger for no more than a second. If I hadn't been looking directly at it, it wouldn't have been a very obvious transition. Wait a minute, I thought. "Are you reacting to my voice?" I asked it quietly, still feeling a bit stupid for talking to the crystal.

It glowed in response.

I stopped propping up my head and waved my hands above the crystal like Piper had done moments ago. Nothing happened. Feeling stupid yet again for the attempt, I gingerly lowered my left hand and touched the crystal's cool surface with my fingertips.

I gasped when it not only brightened considerably, but I felt a sudden, faint sense of recognition – it was something like déjà vu. I pulled my hand away and the feeling faded along with the crystal's glow. Now it was shining its same dim red again, waiting for me to do something else.

"I brought biscuits," Piper said from behind me.

I almost leaped out of my seat, but I managed to turn around and smile briefly, accepting the plate of golden brown biscuits. I placed them on the table and grabbed one. Once Piper sat down, she grabbed one, too.

I nibbled quietly on mine while she explained how crystals each have a certain amount of power depending on the kind of crystal they are and their quality, and the power can be used different ways depending on the crystal type.

"So, for example, some kind of explosive crystal and a Frost Crystal might have the same power, but you can't make an explosive crystal freeze things and a Frost Crystal probably won't explode," she said, taking another bite out of her biscuit.

She went on to explain that in addition to the basic to rare crystals that could be found naturally in the environment and then refined into a usable form, refined crystals could be combined to create new ones.

"Then there's the technique of breaking down natural or combined crystals and creating a crystal from scratch – that's where crystal matrices really come in – but that's _definitely _a lesson for another day," she remarked with a smile.

The lessons carried on for a few hours, with Piper bringing crystals out and explaining their uses, and occasionally going off and explaining a particular branch of crystal science so that I could understand it properly. I quickly realized that Piper was likely one of the most knowledgeable crystal specialists in the world – she grasped even the most advanced concepts and was gifted with the odd crystal manipulation talent that she'd mentioned the day before (and displayed this day with her hand waving).

I was definitely beginning to understand crystals. They played a huge part in day-to-day activities on Atmos since they powered pretty much everything, so it was certainly advantageous to have a greater understanding than most people. While she was explaining certain crystal combinations, we ate lunch. By the time the meal was over, it was safe to say that I had an intermediate grasp of crystal science.

"I'm gonna go take these plates to the kitchen – be right back," Piper said as she ducked out of the room with the plates in tow.

I turned back toward the table and absentmindedly poked the Levitation Crystal floating a few inches above the surface.

"Psst. Celine," someone called from the door.

I turned and saw Finn peeking in through the doorway. "Yes?" I asked.

"She teaching you all that boring crystal stuff?" he asked quickly.

"I think it's interesting," I said, slightly amused.

He gave me a dumbfounded stare. "_Right…_" He cleared his throat. "Yeah, so me and Junko wanted to try to soup up that Switchblade, but we used to keep all the unused spare parts in your room's closet… so…"

"Sure, help yourself," I said with a shrug.

He cocked his head like I didn't quite understand. "Yeah, but it's your ride. You gotta come help."

I mulled it over. "Okay, I guess. Piper headed off to the kitchen." I stood up and left with Finn, taking off in the direction of my room.

"Eh, she won't mind," he said dismissively.

Junko was waiting at my door and stepped aside when we walked up.

"Uh, hi," he greeted, rubbing the back of his head.

"Hello," I said back as I stepped through the door. I opened the closet and glanced down at the boxes of parts. "Here it is," I said with a subtle nod at the closet.

Finn inspected the boxes carefully. "We're gonna need these three… oh, and we should probably take the converters just in case."

I stepped out of the way for him to pull the boxes we'd be carrying out of the closet, and took a look at my nightstand. There was the book on Celine that I'd been reading the night before, but there was another one next to it… my thoughts fluttered back to when Piper had said that there was a second book referencing Celine. "_Something about skimmers, I think,_" she had said. That might be a good thing to bring with me, I thought, as I picked it up and walked back over to the closet.

Finn grunted quietly behind me as he tried to heft a box full of heavy parts. Junko was holding a box in each arm, and there was one much smaller box set aside for me. I placed the skimmer book on top of the box and lifted it carefully.

"Urk…" Finn squeaked quietly, struggling with his box. "To the… landing bay…!"

When we finally made it to the landing bay, Finn half-dropped his box to the ground and hunched over, breathing heavily.

Finn and Junk opened up the boxes and took a quick inventory of the parts. When Finn saw my skimmer book, he furrowed his brow and flipped it open.

"Whoa, Junko, take a look at this," he said with his mouth hanging open.

Junko's face brightened as well once he began inspecting whatever Finn had flipped the book open to. "Oh, neat."

"Yeah… dude, we should totally use some of these designs," he muttered, excitement evident on his face.

Glancing at the worse for wear Switchblade, I could hardly believe they were going to choose that vehicle to modify. But, then again, it felt pretty good to know that I would soon have a ride of my own.


	6. Identity

"You've failed miserably."

"…Master?" the Talon commander stammered.

"Now _they_ have one of the crystals. This is… unacceptable," she hissed to herself, turning back to face the radar. "If we'd had more forces available, we could have crushed them. Next time, we're not going to split up the fleet to get to the crystals faster. Understand?"

"I do, ma'am," the commander replied with a salute.

"Good. We have two, they have one, and there's two left…" She paused for a moment to consider. "We should meet up with the other fleet and head to Terra Zartacla. According to this, the crystal is in the wastelands near it."

"Master, if you don't mind…" he trailed off.

"Speak."

"Well, we're farther away from that than the one near Terra Saharr…" He paused again to take a deep breath – he was clearly nervous. "What if the Storm Hawks reach the Saharr crystal before we get to it?"

"I'm sure they will. Once we've grouped up with the rest of the Cyclonian fleet and secured the third crystal, we can just fly over and pull the last two crystals out of the Storm Hawks' grubby fingers. They'll be doing us a favor by collecting it for us." She glanced back. "Change the ship's course to Terra Zartacla. You're dismissed."

"Yes, Master Cyclonis."

**(._.)**

"Hmm. Wrench," Finn muttered.

I plucked the wrench from the toolbox and handed it over. Once Finn began unfastening some of the Switchblade's iron plating, its chassis became visible.

"It looks pretty dirty," I noted once I saw how much grime had built up around its components.

Finn rolled his eyes. "Eh, that's Cyclonians for you. High grade materials, decent equipment, but it's badly assembled and badly maintained stuff," he said flatly.

"I got the jack!" Junko called from behind us.

I glanced back to see him hefting the aforementioned device. Finn stood up and motioned for Junko to jack up the Switchblade, and I stayed seated on the hangar floor next to the toolbox.

While Junko was raising up the unarmored skimmer for the next step in the process, he spoke up. "You know, I think we should use that Tundras steel plating set. I still have it by the forge."

"Good idea, man. That'd be tons better than the iron stuff they put on these… we could probably melt this plating down for something else," he suggested. "What we really need to do is give these parts a good cleaning, and probably swap out a few. I mean, Cyclonian rides have muscle…" He paused to imitate a loud engine for a few seconds while gesturing energetically. "But we need to rip out that crystal converter… maybe the engine too if we can find a good one like a Slip-wing model. Muscle aside, Cyclonian engines always were a little fishy."

"Do you think you might be going overboard with this?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Finn just gave me a flabbergasted stare.

"Skimmer's jacked up," Junko called.

"Okay, flip the wings," Finn directed, recovering from my stunning lack of faith.

Once the switch was flipped, the red-trimmed iron wings unfurled and snapped into position. Finn immediately began unfastening the nose plating, and once the heavy piece of iron was dropped to the ground, he waved for Junko.

"Junko, I'm gonna unlock the wings. Get 'em for me, alright?" he asked, to which Junko nodded.

After a dull clang, the right-side wings fell limply. I couldn't really see what Finn was doing inside the guts of the Switchblade, but he must have released the wings from their bearings. Junko collected the thin wing set in his arms and deposited them on the hangar's floor a few feet away, and once the left-side wings were unlocked with another clang, he did the same to those.

"I'm gonna go run the iron plating down to the forge, Finn," Junko said as he was leaving the wings and picking up the few iron pieces with a grunt.

"Alright, see you, Junko. Now, uh, Celine," Finn said once Junko had left, still fooling around with the Switchblade's internal components.

I glanced up at the mention of my name – I hadn't been asked my opinion on anything regarding the skimmer yet, so I was rather interested.

"I'm thinking… something sleek. Light armor and weapons, probably, so we can make it really fast. Yeah," he said, rubbing his hands together. "According to that old skimmer guide, Sky Knight Celine used a Sabre model, and those were made right around the time of Air Skimmer Ones."

"A Sabre model?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "What, are you suggesting we magically transform this Cyclonian vehicle into an antique?"

Finn gave me another one of those I-can't-believe-what-she's-saying stares. "'Antique'?" he asked, mouth agape. "I prefer 'vintage', but whatever… and, yeah, don't think of any skimmer as a specific model unless it hasn't been changed at all. All skimmers are just a certain set of parts, y'know. You can swap pretty much anything out for something else."

I stood up, deciding that I should probably get a better view at Finn's tinkering – I hadn't exactly been taking an active part in the event.

Once I stood next to Finn and looked down at the wing lock, I responded. "Well, okay. I suppose that makes sense," I said, glancing around at the Switchblade's innards. "But what happens when your new parts don't fit?"

"Then you make 'em fit," Finn said in a matter of fact tone. "Besides, we're gonna have to bend the chassis for that Tundras steel plating anyway."

"Well, how do you propose we create a skimmer that hasn't existed in one piece for a few centuries?" I asked with a smirk.

Finn glanced to his left and returned my smirk with a cocky grin of his own. "We just gotta hammer that Tundras steel plating to fit the Sabre plans and then do the same thing with this Switchblade chassis," he said, gesturing over the steel frame that the parts were mounted on. "We're probably not gonna find some Sabre parts laying around, so we'll just see if they're selling any vintage skimmer parts at the bazaar on Terra Saharr. Air Skimmer Classic parts would be the thing to look for, since they're pretty close to Sabre ones, and those things are really, really quality pieces – they'll never let you down. Then we just fill in what we can't get with what we have on hand."

"Do you have any vintage parts on _your_ skimmer?" I asked, glancing over at Finn's ride at the other side of the hangar.

"Actually, I have a refurbished Skimmer Classic Mark Two afterburner system built in – and those've been rare for over two hundred years," he said with a smug expression. "Chicka-cha."

I laughed – Finn's demeanor was as good a reason to be amused as any. "Piper told me you acted like a clown when she was teaching me about her crystals earlier today," I said with a grin.

"Really?" Finn asked with his smirk still across his face. "What else did she say?"

"She also said you flirt with pretty much every girl you meet," I added with a chuckle.

"Hey, if that was true, I'd be flirting with you right now," he reasoned, beginning to undo the screws keeping the crystal fuel tank in place.

"I suppose that's true," I replied, smile still on my face. "So when are we going to this 'Saharr' terra?"

"According to Aerrow, we're headed there right now," Finn explained. "We'll get there by the end of the day, but it'll be pretty late – we'll probably all be asleep by then. I'm thinking tomorrow we'll register for the race and then scope out the shops after."

"Race?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, there's a big race hosted on Terra Saharr every year. Oh, man, last year's race was crazy. I managed to get us all this awesome equipment for Aerrow's ride, but we ended up having to stop a Cyclonian attack, and…" He trailed off and made some vocal sound effects with hand gestures.

"That sounds… exciting," I commented with an encouraging nod.

After we discussed the skimmer for a few minutes, Junko returned to say he would get to work on modifying the Tundras steel armor plating to conform to the Sabre plans. Once he left with the skimmer book, Finn and I were about to continue our conversation when Piper stepped into the hangar.

"Celine! I've been looking everywhere for you," Piper said exasperatedly.

I turned to face her while Finn grinned sheepishly from behind the stripped-down Switchblade.

"My apologies, I uh…" I trailed off. I was feeling rather sheepish myself.

"Oh, I asked Celine to come help out with the skimmer here," Finn interrupted with a grin.

"Yes, I assumed we were finished with the lessons for today," I replied a bit more evenly.

Piper raised an eyebrow. "Well, sort of," she admitted, but then adopted a curious glint in her eye. "…So you're making a skimmer?"

Once Piper was brought up to speed about the Sabre job, she gave a few suggestions regarding the crystal converter system and fuel efficiency. Once Finn and I realized that she wasn't furious for us ditching her (sort of), we managed to collaborate rather effectively on planning out the project. I was beginning to wonder why the skimmer was such a big deal and why all the steps had to be taken, but I wrote it off as a cross between hospitality and overenthusiasm on Finn's part.

Junko brought in a few smooth, unpainted Sabre-style armor plates to fit on the chassis around sunset, but since not all of the plates were done and it would be a few hours' worth of work to assemble what was there, we decided to leave it for the next day.

I'd barely done anything exhausting that day, but from all the learning, discussion, listening, and planning, I was ready to pass out once I collapsed onto my bed.

**(._.)**

It was cold.

I turned over onto my left side and then reached for the blanket. And kept reaching.

_Hold on…_

I opened my eyes wide and stared into a pale, hooded face, partially obscured by shadow. I felt a heavy pound in my chest from shock. My hand flew to my mouth reflexively.

After a couple of seconds, the hooded figure chuckled. "I knew you wouldn't scream," she said in a reasonable tone. "That's a good sign."

I glanced around shakily, and saw that I was back in the barren world that I'd only seen in my nightmares. My hand fluttered to my chest as some kind of subconscious gesture to check if I was still breathing. I brought my gaze back to my nightmarish host. She was reclining next to me with her head propped up by her arm. A small smile was beginning to form on her face as well.

"Why…" I began quietly, still trying to breathe evenly after the cruel surprise – why was I breathing raggedly in a dream, anyway? "...would that be a good sign, Cyclonis?"

"I don't know. I know I wouldn't have screamed," she explained, smile still expanding. "So you and your friends are going to make a skimmer. What fun."

I rolled my eyes and turned onto my back, staring up at the odd red-orange clouds far above. "Yes, but I don't see how that's relevant to our meeting." I shot a glare to my left at the still-smiling psychotic deposed despot. "What do you want this time?"

"Don't be rude, 'Celine'," she warned, pronouncing my name with some kind of mocking connotation.

"This is just a dream. If you want to appear in it in some kind of childish attempt to scare me, then go ahead. Do your worst," I snapped, eyes narrowed. "But you can't hurt me."

At first she seemed like she was going to ignore my statement and change the topic, but when I mentioned that she couldn't hurt me I saw her jaw clench. When she stood up, there was a definite sense of fury coming from her, and I was debating on standing up and maybe moving away a few feet before she decided to – and this is what I guessed she would do – abuse the imaginative mechanisms of my dream to send some manner of horrific visual or auditory effect in another attempt at frightening me. I was slightly disappointed when she slammed her boot into my ribs instead.

"Ow!" I shouted immediately, falling to my right with a hand on my chest in a vain attempt at quelling the splitting pain.

Cyclonis pointed at my writhing frame. "Get up," she ordered. "I didn't kick you that hard."

I begged to differ, but I didn't press the issue – avoiding more physical abuse became my short-term goal for the nightmare session. The throbbing pain in my side had dissipated into a dull ache by the time I pulled myself to my feet.

I dusted off my pants with the palms of my hands. "I'm listening."

"Piper is teaching you the art of the crystals…" Cyclonis stated with a shadowy stare. "That's what I want to discuss."

I was about to make a dismissive comment about how it was none of her business, but my words got caught in my throat.

"Yes, that is correct," Cyclonis assured me with a wide smile, confirming my suspicions that had barely been fully considered.

She wasn't just reading my immediate thoughts, I thought with a gnawing sense of horror. She had access to my memories… my subconscious thoughts… my mind was an open book to her.

"Good metaphor."

"Are you going to use my mind… against the Storm Hawks?" I asked with a frown. I didn't know how I'd be able to forgive myself for something like that.

Cyclonis sighed deeply and stared at the ground for a few seconds. "I wish you knew how silly I thought that question was." She glanced back up. "What I really want to talk to you about is the crystal lessons."

"What? Why?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose lightly and took a few breaths. "I don't really have the patience for this kind of thing, but this is a rather special situation," she muttered. "I'm going to teach you about crystals myself. Do you understand?"

I was taken aback. "I'm… not sure."

"You will continue to receive lessons from Piper. She is self-taught, and could probably teach the basics to you better than I could," she admitted with a shrug. "I will teach you what she won't be able to. You will also need to learn the Binding."

"Piper mentioned that…" I remarked, pausing to remember…

"Yes. The ability to manipulate the power of crystals outside of their intended use, as well as direction of that power using oneself as a conductor – that is the Binding." She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her other leg. "Learning what it is just happens to be the _only_ easy step."

"Why me?" I asked flatly.

I could imagine her staring at me blankly from underneath her shadowy hood – judging from her body language and the visible half of her face, she was probably giving me the same expression that Finn had given me a few times during the day.

Cyclonis paused and cocked her head thoughtfully. "The only person who can answer that question is you," she said after a while. "I think that's an apt way to put it, especially considering I can't say."

Her words hung in the air and I felt compelled to ask more about it, but I had a feeling that she wouldn't say anything else about it.

"Oh, I can say a _little _more," she replied to my thoughts. "I was trying to move on to another topic, but if you simply must know, I can provide a little more information." She cleared her throat. "I'm able to access your mind freely, at any time. You are not able to access mine. If you were able to, then that would trigger a catastrophic mental reaction for you that I'm not sure you'd be able to handle," she said coolly. "Although I'm able to read your thoughts, memories, and latent emotions, and I'm able to communicate with you – via these dreams, you see – I am not able to tell you everything. Don't think of me as a physical person that can just say whatever pops into my head. In my current form, I'm just a mental representation of myself. There is a line that I cannot cross. I can barely even hint at anything beyond this line. So I must do what I can." The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. "Yes… I knew that would just fill you up with more questions."

I sighed. "Fine. Are you going to start teaching me the… Binding?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. You aren't ready for that, yet. We're going to need to start with something…" she trailed off and then started laughing hysterically.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked with a frown.

"I… I was about to say 'something simple'…" she breathed, recovering from her sudden laughing fit.

"You didn't really seem like the laughing type," I remarked.

She shrugged. "Perhaps I just don't have the same sense of humor as everyone else… moving on. Lesson one."

She waved her hands, and a scattering of light appeared between us. I fought the urge to dive out of the way of the sudden bright, shapeless glow. She continued waving her hands until she brought the lights that were seemingly without direction or origin into a three dimensional schematic of a crystal.

"This is a Regeneration Crystal – one of the crystals that I managed to map," she said. "All crystals – even ones that don't exist yet – are formed out of a matrix of crystalloid particles that gives a crystal its identity. No matter where a crystal is from or what it has been through, its identity… remains the same."

"I see," I acknowledged when she reached a pause.

"Following a mapped matrix," she continued slowly, "is how a crystal can be molded from scratch."

When Cyclonis dropped her arms at the conclusion of her sentence, the light she had been manipulating vanished as quickly as it came.

"_Piper…_" she spat, "will probably tell you more about that, so I'll stop there. We'll have a much larger amount of information to go over next time. For now… get some sleep."

"That's it?" I asked with a hint of disbelief in my voice.

She crossed her arms again. "I was trying to be reasonable since this situation may be a bit of a mental shock for you, even if you do not realize it yet. Go to sleep. Now."

And when she said it that time, the world went black.

**[ Author's Note:**

**This chapter might seem a **_**little **_**drab, but that's just because there's some good, old fashioned hidden meaning inside of it. If anyone is able to isolate and explain said hidden meaning, I will be stunned. Beyond stunned. Astounded.**

**But, yeah. It's hidden in there pretty deep.**

**~CWO ]**


	7. Beginning

"Terra Saharr." Stork paused to examine the bright landscape. "Home to scorpions, spiders, snakes, and more – it's one of the most poisonous terras in all of the Atmos!" he finished with a dramatic flourish.

"Thanks for the warning, Stork," Aerrow said with a chuckle as he passed him on the trail. The rest of the Storm Hawks continued past him as well.

"Well, when you get _stung_ or _bitten_ or _constricted_," Stork warned, "don't say I didn't tell you so!"

There was a sandy expanse in every direction from the _Condor_, with mesas and small desert plants decorating the horizon. The only visible sign of civilization on the terra was the town that we were entering.

It was a ragtag assembly of tents and cheap structures, most consisting of shops. It was definitely larger inside than it seemed from far away, as the crowded pathways were crammed with bazaar patrons.

"Racing registrations here! Sign up for the Great Atmos Race!" someone called from behind a stand near the center of the tent city.

Aerrow turned back and grinned, pointing over at the stand. The nonverbal communication was definitely more effective than trying to yell over the crowd. We weaved our way through the populated area until we came up to the stand. The mustached man manning it looked up expectantly.

"Here to register?" he asked simply, tipping his cap to us. He had on a reasonably well-made suit with only a few stitched-on patches, plus a hat that almost matched.

"Yeah, Finn and Aerrow of the Storm Hawks," Finn replied.

"Ah," the suited registrar said, punctuating his syllable with a click of his pen. "I believe you won last year's race. That, and saved the Atmos." He chuckled to himself while scribbling onto the paper firmly clasped on his clipboard.

"That's true," Piper remarked with a grin.

"Well, I'm sure you'll do well again this time…" he said after clicking his pen closed. "Of course, we _have_ had a slight rule change."

There was a pause.

"Well, you see," he began, leaving his clipboard and pen on the stand counter, "after last year's ship part fiasco, we decided to ban airship-grade parts from being used on racing skimmers. Shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"Guess not," Finn said, then turned to Aerrow. "Dude, I'm gonna go with Celine and see if we can find a few skimmer parts, alright?"

Aerrow raised an eyebrow, then glanced from Finn to me and then back to Finn. "Sure, I guess."

"Chicka-cha," Finn said with a chuckle.

We started weaving back through the crowd back in the direction of the bazaar area. I glanced back to see the rest of the team still chatting by the booth before they were obscured by the customers.

"Alright, vintage parts… which tent should we hit up first?" Finn asked with a sideways glance at me.

"I don't know," I replied with a shrug. I took a look around and saw a tent that had 'Skyride General' on the flap. "How about that one?"

He nodded. "Seems like an okay place to start."

Stepping into the tent was like stepping into another world. The hustle and bustle of the shops dissipated into a distant, dull ambient sound. The changes in temperature and scent made the transition even more pronounced. It smelled like old books, even though the place was cluttered with racks and crates of secondhand skimmer parts.

"Welcome, welcome," an elderly man with a turban said as he walked out from behind his counter to greet us. "How can I help you? Are you looking for anything specific?"

"We're trying to find some vintage parts for a custom job," Finn explained.

"Yes, the vintage parts section is right over here…" he said, ushering us to the left.

We stopped at a rack with a few boxes to the side. The parts were all gray and shabby, but most seemed to be in reasonable condition nonetheless.

"I have Magma jet engines – prior to the 50s series – a few old Nimbus jet engines, Slip-wing Classic parts, Air Skimmer Classic parts… I might have a few Air Skimmer Two or One pieces in here somewhere, too," he added with a nod. "Feel free to poke around and ask questions if you need to. You probably won't find a better deal anywhere on Saharr!"

Once he went off to sort parts behind his counter, Finn picked through the parts on the rack. "Sabres used Magma jets and crystal converters, but if we hooked up a Magma jet engine to a Slip-wing Classic crystal converter, it would be _sick_," he said. "All we have on the _Condor_ is Air Skimmer crystal converters for spare parts. Oh, hey, look at this!"

I glanced over at what he was holding, and it seemed to be a pipe-shaped device in need of a soap-and-water scrubbing. There were a few ports on the sides with small acronyms stamped on them, probably to help with assembly. I squinted, and I saw in neat stamped lettering, "SLIP-WING CONVERTER MK II".

"Wow, the odds of finding a decent Mark Two…" he trailed off. "Hold this. I'm gonna see what else is here."

He handed the converter to me, and I stared at it blankly. It didn't seem very impressive, but who was I to judge? I decided to do something to at least make me feel like I was playing a part in the process, so I held the part in one hand and combed through a crate of parts with my other one.

All of the parts in that particular crate seemed to be the same type of (rather heavy) part, just from different models. A few random names were stamped on each, but then I got to one that said "Air Skimmer One" in small lettering.

"Hey, Finn," I said, holding the part in his direction. "What's this?"

His eyes immediately bulged out of his head. "Oh, man! That's an Air Skimmer One wing control. Look, see, the part here is where it hooks up to the transformation lever, and these two sides hold the wing bases. None of it is powered; it's all done with mechanical parts and a spring system," he explained. "But you gotta have some first generation skimmer wings to make use of that, so that won't work with the Switchblade wings we have."

"Why would the old-fashioned wing system be a plus?" I asked.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with the new system… but there wasn't anything wrong with the old one, either," he reasoned with a cocky grin. "But there is one plus I can think of. The new wing systems use crystal power, and they're a lot heavier, so wings have to be made lighter to keep the balance of the skimmer under control. Wings back then were heavier and stronger."

"Well, then we should get some old wings, right?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

He chuckled. "A lot of old wings have been either melted down or trashed by now. I mean, everyone's using the new systems which don't work with vintage wings."

"That's a shame," I muttered.

"Still, we should get this in case we do get some wings. S'probably not expensive," he said. "We probably have everything we need, except some jets and an afterburner…"

After a few minutes of combing through the sets of vintage parts, Finn managed to get his hands on a Magma 44 jet engine set and a matching afterburner. Needless to say, he was ecstatic.

"The 44s are the _best_! I didn't think I'd find these parts anywhere, much less a pair _with an afterburner_!" he squeaked, glancing between the two jet engines.

"Uh… why are they so special?" I asked quietly.

"Well, I mean, the Dark Ace used Magma 66s, and those were pretty much the same thing except _iron_ instead of _steel_ like these 44s_._ These are insanely powerful engines."

"I'll take your word for that," I said with a sheepish shrug.

"Come on, let's buy this stuff."

We went to the counter each loaded down with the bulky parts and set them on top.

"Very, very interesting choices, here," the proprietor commented, going through the pieces. "I'll let these go for seventy."

Judging by Finn's wide smile as he counted out the money, it must have been a very reasonable price.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you going to be making?" he asked offhandedly.

"We're planning on recreating a Sabre," was my casual reply.

His eyes widened a bit and he stroked his beard. "A Sabre, you say…" he murmured quietly before leaning under the counter.

While Finn and I exchanged curious glances, he pulled a large box up from underneath his counter and then set it on top. He unclasped the lock on it and pulled it open toward us, revealing its contents.

"Whoa," Finn murmured.

They were sleek and obviously in good condition. Despite being gray and unpainted, they still shone with a slightly reflective steel brilliance. They were skimmer wings, and the ornate cursive script along one of the folded wings read "_Sabre_".

"I've had these for a couple of years, now. Bought them for cheap off of some merchant," the owner said. "I haven't been able to sell the things on account of the old-fashioned wing control couplings. They're yours for twenty, and I'll be happy to finally get rid of them. It sounds like you need them more than I do, anyway."

"Deal!" Finn shouted immediately, tossing another twenty on the counter with zero hesitation.

And that's how I earned my wings.

**(._.)**

"At least you were able to do _this_ without screwing up."

"Well, yes. Where should we head next, master?" the Talon officer asked timidly.

"We have three of the five crystals... set our course for Terra Saharr – if we hurry, we'll be able to intercept the Storm Hawks and get their two crystals, too. This Helix Crystal is as good as ours."

**(._.)**

The heat was getting to me.

"I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to go to my room and lay down for a little while," I told Finn, who was still tinkering with the new parts and my skimmer. I'd been helping quite a bit – to the best of my ability, anyway – but Terra Saharr's rising temperature was penetrating the hangar to the point where I couldn't stand it anymore.

Finn nodded in response, so I stepped inside the hallway out of the oppressive heat. When I reached my room, I reclined on my thankfully cool bed with a sigh. While I was cooling off, I decided to continue reading the _Celine _book. I snatched it up from the nightstand and propped my head up on the pillow. Once I was properly situated, I flipped through the yellowed pages and continued the story where I left off.

The Sky Knight Celine had become the leader of Cyclonia's squadron out of nowhere – she seemed to have no past or personal history. No one even knew who she was. Still, she and her elite squad had – according to the lengthy chapters following the first two – had many adventures involving the protection of Cyclonia and its allies along with maintaining peace across the world. It was a very absorbing book, and in what felt like no time at all, I had finished up to chapter six. I was starting on chapter seven when I heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," I called while dog-earing the page I was on.

Junko peeked in through the open door. "Uh, hi," he began while twiddling his thumbs. "Finn wants to talk to you."

"Oh," I said, setting my book back down on my nightstand. "I understand. I'll be in the hangar in a moment."

Junko went off to do whatever Junko did, so I took the opposite route down the hallway in the direction of the hangar bay. Once I was through the door, Finn immediately turned away from the Sabre and stared at me with a huge smile. He seemed rather excited.

"Aerrow got stung by a scorpion!" he blurted.

I stared at him blankly. "And how is that a good thing?"

"Well, it's not, but he's gonna be fine," Finn explained. "But he already paid out the entry fee for two people, and no one else wants to take his spot, so… how about you enter?" He nodded enthusiastically.

"Me?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not sure. My skimmer isn't even done."

"Isn't it?" Finn asked with a grin, stepping out of the way.

We'd assembled almost everything before I left, but Finn had managed to fit the plating and wings on while I was away. The skimmer was stunning – it had a sleek, unique profile and Finn had given it a clean purple and black paintjob. It seemed to sparkle with an almost iridescent quality. The rest of the skimmers in the hangar looked like shabby garage sale models compared to it, and it even showed off its Sabre wing decal when the wings were folded in.

"I'm... impressed," I managed to murmur breathlessly.

"Look, it'll be tons of fun! You obviously know how to fly a skimmer from how you got the Switchblade in the first place, so why not?" he asked.

"I suppose," I admitted. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Great!" Finn exclaimed. "Here, hop on and get a feel for it."

Once I straddled the flawless skimmer, I was confident that it was truly something special. The engine revved with a low, dull roar that sounded much more powerful than the original Switchblade's had been.

"I'm gonna go tell Aerrow he's got a replacement," Finn said, starting off in the direction of the door. "Meet us past the city once you're done – oh, and I almost forgot to give you these back."

I raised an eyebrow when he tossed an object in my direction, but I caught it. It was my pair of blue goggles.

I fitted them on quickly. "I appreciate it," I said evenly.

"You need to work on that whole 'constantly formal' thing," Finn muttered with a chuckle.

With a shrug, I turned back to the open bay door and let go of the brake. The Sabre boosted forward onto the ship's runway and once I'd picked up enough speed, I switched the transformation lever. There was a dull shifting sound and then the wings unfolded rigidly into their positions.

Then I was sailing through the sky.

While I still didn't know anything about my past, judging from the situation I must have been a good pilot. I certainly knew what did what and I had a good sense of what a skimmer could do… I sent my ride into a barrel roll that I snapped out of after one rotation, and then I pulled up abruptly and did a loop-the-loop with little effort. With a grin, I acknowledged that maybe I hadn't given myself enough credit – I was an excellent pilot.

After a few more stunts, I slowed down and cruised above the clouds near Terra Saharr. That was when something familiar caught my eye.

"Is that…?" I murmured to myself, lowering my elevation sharply.

It was.

I slowed down just above the ground of Terra Saharr and switched the transformation lever back, dropping to the sand with a thud. My skimmer rolled along the sand until the speed burnt off, then I turned off the engine. I stepped off and paced toward the familiar object – it was another one of those strange red crystals.

When I dug my hand into the sand and pulled it out, it glowed in my grip. I carried it to the skimmer with a quizzical expression on my face, but tossed it in the storage box. I should probably take it to Piper after the race, I thought, as I revved the engine and pulled the wings, soaring back up into the sky.

I glanced around until I found the tent-covered city in the distance. Just before it was the _Condor_ and a few other parked carriers, and just past it was where a crowd had gathered. I assumed the start point of the race must be there, so I pushed the skimmer a bit harder in that direction. With a slight bank right, I shot past a red carrier parked near the _Condor. _After the outskirts of the city flashed past, I pulled the air brake, shifted to bike mode, and twisted the handlebars to the left all before I hit the ground with a jarring thud. Within seconds, I skidded to a halt.

I looked up to see that a small group of race-goers were forming around my Sabre.

"Why, I've never seen anything like it," one of them muttered quietly.

"Thank you?" I replied uncertainly.

A bald man stared at my ride with wide eyes. "It's so shiny."

"Yes," I said. It was difficult to avoid raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure that there are many air vehicles that you could all potentially fawn over... preferably over _there_." I gestured in the general direction of the rest of the skimmers and their owners.

"That's a rather roundabout way of telling everyone to leave you alone," someone remarked lightly. "Still, you _do_ have a nice ride."

As the little crowd dissipated, I turned to face the purple-haired woman who had decided to pick me out to practice her observational skills on. She seemed to squint a little bit when she focused on my face, but I dismissed it as a reaction to Saharr's overpowering sunlight.

"That seems to be the popular opinion," I remarked flatly. I was about to make a statement filled with biting sarcasm, but I hesitated. Was that something I would do to someone I had never met before?

"That's funny," she said, breaking through my emergency self-evaluation moment. "I have the strangest feeling that we've met before. I'm Starling."

"Starling," I said slowly, giving her outstretched hand an uncertain shake. "I don't believe…"

Wait.

"That's quite alright," she said dismissively. "I could be mistaken. I suppose I see quite a few faces as a Sky Knight."

…Starling. Starling. Yes, that was her name… it matched her face. The speech. The person. Yes. Where had I seen her before?

"I suppose you're here for the race, too. Everyone's been modifying their skimmers heavily due to that new rule… but you seem to have one of the most impressive ones." She chuckled.

No, that couldn't be right… why would…

"Well…"

I was following the first mental thread I'd encountered since I lost my memory that might actually lead to some clue about my past, but I couldn't understand why the first thing I could truly remember about my lost personal history was… well, what it was.

"We're still shaking hands, you know," Starling said with a giggle.

"Oh," I said quietly, releasing my grip with a blank expression. My arm fell limp by my side. "I was… trying to remember whether we met or not."

"Well, maybe we have after all. What's your name?" she asked in an even tone, head cocked a few degrees to the side in an expectant gesture.

I stared at her blankly.

"My name?"

What was my name?

She was giving me a perplexed stare while I fumbled around my mind for something that I should have recalled immediately.

"…Celine," I said after another moment's hesitation. I felt slightly better for not prolonging the situation further, which would have definitely resulted in a faux pas of grand magnitude – but I furrowed my brow when the name felt somehow… _wrong._

My eyes widened when I remembered the link to my past that I'd been juggling with in my head, but like a dream that one can't quite remember after waking, it had already receded into some dark corner of my subconscious, eager to continue evading my mental prods. I decided to focus on the task at hand.

"Honestly, I'm still not sure if we've met before!" Starling admitted sheepishly. "I don't seem to recall anyone by that name, but you still seem familiar. Well met, Celine – better shake on it again," she said with a laugh, shaking my hand a second time.

I returned her laugh with one of my own, but on the inside I was gritting my teeth. I stared down at her hand with silent distaste, somewhat like how I would if I had been forced to shake hands with a beggar. This woman standing in front of me – despite being slightly taller than I was – felt decidedly beneath me.

I still did not know why, but I hated her. Utterly. It was not an unfounded hatred due to some first impression gone amiss or a bad reputation somewhere along the line. It was a strong hate. "Hate" wasn't even the correct word, but I managed to find one that suited her much better in the time it took to return her friendly smile with a plastic one of my own:

_Enemy._

"Well met, indeed."


	8. Out of the Frying Pan

Once the Storm Hawks showed up – minus a recovering Aerrow – Starling greeted them a few reasonable formalities and then went off with her skimmer to the starting line, as did Finn. I decided that it might be a good time to hand off the red crystal to Piper – preferable to waiting until later, I supposed – so I flipped open the side compartment.

"Piper, I found another one of those crystals," I said after waving for her attention. Once I hefted the crystal out and placed it into her expectant hands, she responded with a quirked eyebrow.

"I guess this is good," she remarked. "I mean, the Cyclonians obviously wants them… but I still don't know what they do…"

"Perhaps we could research them further at some point," I suggested.

She looked up at me and nodded. "Sounds like a good idea."

A few racers at the starting line began revving their engines, so after I received a few good luck wishes I took my hand off the brake and took up my position next to Finn to the far right of the group.

"Nervous?" Finn asked with a grin, prompting me to look up from the skimmer controls.

"Nervous? I wouldn't say that. Wondering how you managed to talk me into this? Certainly," I replied with a raised eyebrow.

"That's the spirit!" Finn said in response, quickly showing me two thumbs up.

"Right, racers," a member of the Third Degree Burners squadron called from in front of the assembled group. "The race is gonna start in just a minute, and then we'll really know who's the best of the best of the… well, yeah, you get the idea."

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and then adjusted my bright blue goggles. Honestly, I did feel something in regard to the situation, but I was reluctant to admit – even to myself – that I might be nervous. I wrote it off as a cross between the heat and the oatmeal I'd had for breakfast not being quite as thick as I would have liked. With that perfectly reasonable explanation in mind, I fitted my hands firmly around the handlebars.

The race host had managed to locate his air horn after an awkward half a minute or so of searching, and then moved off to the side of the starting point.

"Uh, okay! Ready," he called over the skimmers' engines while getting a better grip on the horn. "Get set…"

I inhaled slowly and double-checked the temperature and fuel gauges.

"Go!" he yelled while honking the horn with all of his horn-honking might.

Once I let go of the brake, my Sabre shot forward along with the rest of the racers. What had started out as a horizontal line of skimmers had changed into a rough oval with mine near the middle of the right side. Finn was ahead of me but to the left somewhat, and the purple-haired Starling was leading the pack.

The sounds of the souped-up skimmers were almost deafening, but I kept up a reasonable speed and weaved past a racer, putting me directly next to Finn.

"Having fun yet?!" he shouted once he noticed I was beside him.

I kept staring ahead while I yelled, "Don't distract me – you got me into this mess, you know!" as a response.

After a laughing fit, Finn leaned to the left and moved up from between two opponents for a higher position. I squinted further down the track and saw that we were eventually going to have to maneuver between several mesas, so a better lead would be invaluable.

I pushed the skimmer harder and leaned to the right, and I eventually drifted past a Third Degree Burner and a Screaming Queens member. The terrain was very uneven, and I suddenly found myself driving into a cloud of dust kicked up by Starling's Slip-wing. The feeling of sand splashing across my face wasn't a pleasant one, but it was certainly a good encouragement to beat the purple-haired annoyance who still elicited some kind of unconscious hatred from me. Thank goodness for those goggles, I noted.

We were approaching the entrance of a cave, so I took a chance and accelerated, hoping that the tricky squeeze between the two racers in front of me would be justified by the lowered likelihood of being smashed to bits in the narrow cavern by competitors who happened to be a little too close for comfort.

As I crept between the two opponents at a rather dangerous speed, they exchanged bewildered stares at the intruder throwing a wrench in their midrace one-on-one – me, of course – but they couldn't really do anything about it as I'd already passed them by the time my presence had fully registered. Only Finn and Starling were ahead of me now.

The bright desert light seemed to go dim sharply when we, the three leading the race, rushed into the cave. Finn was near the left of the cave, and Starling was toward the right, albeit a few skimmers' lengths ahead of him. I gunned the engine – this was yet another risky attempt, considering the narrowness of the cavern – and dodged a rocky column, which put me directly next to Finn.

"Wasn't this a great idea?!" Finn asked with a smile plastered across his face.

"No!" I yelled back. "But I'm going to go for the win anyway!"

"May the best Finn win!" Finn called in response.

And with that, we both sped up to as high as one could without getting dashed across the cave walls. We were gaining on Starling when we reached the end of the tunnel abruptly. The bright light disoriented me for a few seconds, but I kept on course and blinked a few times in an effort to adjust.

The mesas that had been in the distance just a few moments before were coming up fast. I leaned left around one, and saw that racers in front of and behind me had broken the loose formation we had shifted into in favor of bobbing and weaving through the large obstacles.

I heard a dull thud and glanced briefly to the right – one of the two Third Degree Burners participating in the race had managed to hit a rock at the wrong angle and flipped his ride successfully. One would think that the members of that particular squadron would be capable of avoiding the dangers of their home terra's terrain, but this one certainly had not. Irony at its finest, I thought with a smirk.

After going around two more of the sand-caked mesas, I stared ahead of me and spied a rocky spire in the distance.

"You're good!" someone chirped from beside me.

I glanced to the right at the speaker and then back to the front. "I suppose so, Starling," I called back, revving my Sabre up to a faster speed. I eyed the temperature gauge warily – it was being pushed hard, but the skimmer hadn't gone into the red yet.

"Think you're going to win?" Starling asked loudly from right beside me, yet again.

"Yes!" I replied, rather annoyed.

It was just us, neck and neck. The prize – a Velocity Crystal set in an amulet – was mounted at the top of the stone spire. My skimmer was being pushed to the point where the engine was emitting a nearly deafening roar, as was Starling's. On the straightaway, we had each seemed to reach the top speeds of our skimmers. While I was pondering which of our skimmers was the fastest overall, we hit the steep rock incline that sent us sailing through the air in the direction of the amulet.

I reached out with my right arm just as Starling reached out with her left, and I glanced over at her raised eyebrow and playful grin – I still couldn't tell if Starling's behavior was because of a sunny disposition or just arrogance (or if it had anything to do with my attitude toward her that I couldn't explain), but I figured that it was not the best time to ask.

My fingers grazed the sun-warmed metal and closed around it. With a smile on my face, I plucked it off of the spire – and out of Starling's reach – and pressed it against the right handlebar, dedicating my right hand to both holding and steering.

It wasn't long before we hit the sand and then gradually slowed to a stop.

"Well," Starling began, letting out a long breath. "That was exciting."

"I agree," I said quietly. The silence in the area was difficult to adjust to after hearing nothing but loud engines for an extended period of time.

I raised the amulet above my head and looked at it in the light. It was an impressive piece of craftsmanship. That was about when Finn hit the dune near us and rolled over with a stunned expression.

"Okay," he began, "I didn't expect your ride to go that fast."

"I didn't see it coming, either," Starling commented. "Otherwise I would've won this race, you know."

"I'm sure," I replied. I was about to make another comment when my words were caught in my throat.

Starling and Finn both turned their heads in the direction that I was staring, and lo-and-behold – two Cyclonian destroyers were approaching the border of the terra.

"Oh, man!" Finn exclaimed. "We've gotta tell Aer-… wait, he's in the medical tent, still. Um. Well, we have to get everybody to… you know!"

"There's no time," Starling said grimly. "I doubt any of the other racers brought weapons, so there goes our immediate backup. Depending on what the Cyclonians intend to do here, it may be too late for everyone to return to their squadrons and assemble for battle." She tapped her chin thoughtfully with her finger. "Finn, I need you to stay here and let the rest of the racers know of the situation when they arrive."

Finn nodded. "Alright, I can do that. What're you gonna do?"

"I'm going to fly right up to that Cyclonian flagship and see if I can throw a kink in their plans, because I certainly brought _my_ weapon," Starling said with a grin, flipping a pair of bright purple energy nunchucks out from her belt.

Of course they were purple, I thought irritably. Everything was_ purple_ with her. She gave a bad reputation to a perfectly reasonable color.

"Celine," she said, knocking me away from my thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to help?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. She must have known I was going to decline, because she added, "I'm not sure if I can do this alone," to her argument with a serious expression on her face.

"…Very well," I muttered after a moment's hesitation. "But if I get killed over this, I'm going to be very displeased with you."

**(._.)**

When my heart thudded slightly stronger than usual in my chest, I couldn't decide whether it was because my skimmer's wings had flipped out and I was suddenly airborne, or if it was because of the fact that a person who elicited an innate sense of distrust and enmity from me and I were on an extremely dangerous mission improvised directly after a high speed race. To say that I was feeling the effects of stress would be an understatement.

All the while, I had to deal with the bright Saharr sun wearing me down like a slow, creeping suffocation. At least the suicide mission would take place in the shade.

"I'm glad you decided to come along. I consider myself to be proficient in combat, but even I know that doing something like this alone is a bad idea," Starling said.

I glanced sideways at Starling, flying alongside me in her purple skimmer – _again_ with the purple. I was beginning to get a feel for her personality even though getting to know her was a less than appealing feeling. It was remarkable how much one could learn about someone from just a couple of hours – she appeared to have a lighthearted personality, but underneath that she was very serious, with a strong sense of duty and civil service. Her motivation – whatever it was – behind helping others must have run deep.

I frowned. All in all, she was a kind, likeable person – a _good_ person – one of the good guys. What could she have possibly done in my past for me to hate her? That was when the creeping solution to my paradox forced itself into my thought processes.

What kind of person had I been… to hate a _hero_?

"We're getting closer to the flagship. This is the blind spot for Cyclonian destroyers, so I hope it's the same for their flagships…" She trailed off, and something in her voice made me less than certain she'd considered the design differences fully. "We can get in through a side hatch into the cargo bay. If we land our skimmers and hide them there, we'll be able to continue our mission undetected. It's a good thing the rest of the destroyers are hanging back, or we would never be able to pull this off."

"Honestly, that sounds like a good plan," I admitted.

"Why do you sound surprised?" she asked with a grin.

After I shrugged and she laughed, we cut down on our air speed until we were slightly faster than the speed of the flagship.

"This might be a bit tricky," she murmured as she leaned dangerously out of her seat and grabbed a bar on the side of the flagship's hull.

I raised an eyebrow and tried to decide whether she would fall or not.

"Got it!"

Guess not.

Whatever she did to the hatch, it worked. A large hatch in the hull – around the length of two skimmers end-to-end – lowered and revealed an entrance into a dimly lit cargo hold.

Starling banked into the bay and switched to bike mode, then rolled further inside to give me room for an entrance as well. I took a deep breath and willed myself to time it correctly – I was not in the mood for a long drop and a rough stop – and turned sharply into the ship. After a quick toggling of the wing control mechanism, my Sabre had safely arrived inside the ship.

"That went well," Starling remarked with a nod.

I switched off my ride with a pointed glare in her direction. "If you consider breaking into an enemy warship's pantry with an effective fighting force of two people in a rash attempt at discovering what they're up to _and_ how to prevent it in a rather small window of time doing 'well', then maybe I should help you find a more accurate term," I hissed while stepping off of my skimmer.

"You're very good at long-winded cynicism," Starling noted.

"If that's what you want to call it," I muttered dismissively. I glanced around for a few seconds, searching for something to whack people with.

"Looking for something?" she asked on her way over to me.

Most of the supplies in that particular cargo bay were crates of food and beverages, so I was beginning to lose hope on my impulsive hunt for a blunt object. "I'm looking for a weapon. Even if we're intending on using stealth, I'd appreciate something like… a rail for instance. Even a pipe would be preferable to going empty-handed."

"Don't you know some kind of martial art?" Starling asked with what sounded like surprise.

"Why do you ask?" I was genuinely puzzled.

"Well, when I first greeted you, you slipped into some sort of reflexive combat pose," she said seriously, glancing at my hands. "It was subtle, I mean, and you were sitting… I'm not exactly sure what style it was – definitely not Sky Fu, at least – but you _do_ know how to fight." She raised an eyebrow. "Or are you trying to hide that fact?"

I stared at her blankly. "No, not at all… I'm just impressed with your deduction." I was beginning to wonder why I was able to lie so effortlessly.

"Alright, then. I'll keep an eye out for something you can use," she promised. "But for now, we need to see if we can find the bridge."

"The bridge?" I repeated. "So we can walk right into the captain's armed entourage?"

"Always the skeptic," Starling said with a chuckle. "There's a better way to get around than walking through them, you know." She pointed to a vent cover in the wall.

"You're not serious," I said blankly.

**(._.)**

If I was unhappy about following Starling through a dangerous mission – even though I was the only few people available to help at the time – then I was extremely unhappy about having to follow her through a ventilation system.

"Still back there?" Starling asked from in front of me in a hushed tone.

"Yes," I muttered back.

The only light source in the ducts was tiny lines of light coming from the vent covers, so the only part of Starling that I could make out was a dim outline of her shoes. The _scritch-scritch-scritch_ of our crawling was beginning to annoy me – that, and I felt like a little gerbil being shepherded through a maze – and more and more I began to regret not telling her to go on her little adventure by herself to begin with.

"How do you even know you're going the right way?" I asked skeptically.

Starling's _scritch_-ing paused for a moment. "This isn't the first time I've had to crawl through a Cyclonian airship."

"So, once again, how do you know you're going the right way?" I repeated.

She sighed. "Judging from where we started, since we've taken one right we're going down the hull of the ship in the direction of the bridge. I've been looking out of the vents as we've passed them, and I saw a little sign that said 'bridge' with an arrow. Once we come up to a junction in the ducts, we'll make a left turn and be on our merry way," she said quickly. "Don't take this as an insult, but you seem to be rather… negative."

"I'm just trying to minimize the possibility of us both being killed," I said flatly.

"That's a reasonable goal," she replied. "Here's the junction. Go left."

After we scrunched uncomfortably around the bend and continued down the duct for a while, Starling's crawling sound stopped abruptly. I could see her purple hair lit up by a few horizontal lines of light from a vent cover.

"What?" I asked quietly.

She didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Well… this hallway is right next to the bridge. There are a few guards milling about, though. Looks like cookie-cutter Cyclonian infantry." She took a deep breath. "We're really close."

So the _strich_-ing began anew.

"Stop. We're in the bridge," Starling hissed. She angled her head toward the grate and squinted through it. "There's some officers at their stations… it looks like there's a few people gathered around a radar. It's got two red dots on it. Ring any bells?"

I considered it for half a second. "It's definitely those red crystals that Piper and I found. I gave her the second one, so the dots are probably in or around the _Condor_."

"Wait," Starling began. "You know the Storm Hawks?"

"Well, yes. I've been staying with them."

"What? Why?" Starling asked, clearly puzzled.

"I don't really think now is the time," I murmured.

There was a pause. "No, no… you're right. Let's see…" She trailed off. "Is that… Master Cyclonis?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Celine, I'm pretty sure I see Master Cyclonis. She's at the radar table now, and it looks like she's ordering around the officers… I can't believe it. She's supposed to be dead, but that has to be her. She has the cloak and the hood and everything."

I briefly wondered whether or not the Master Cyclonis in real life would match the one in my dreams. Then I wondered what the real life Master Cyclonis would do if she saw me. Were we some sort of allies? She was apparently my night school tutor, after all.

"Well, the witch is certainly not as dead as I thought she was… it even seems like she's grown a couple of inches – must be all the megalomania in her diet. There's been rumors about her, but I never took them seriously… the council has to know about this," Starling continued. "Here, come on. Now we know what they're after; let's get back to our skimmers and warn the others."

Starling started crawling away down the duct, so I began crawling after her. I paused when I reached the grate and snuck a peek. I quickly saw who Starling had identified as Master Cyclonis – she was walking out of the room, but I saw her outfit and immediately had a crushing sense of déjà vu. It was the same as the one in my dreams…

_Creak._

I glanced around, unsure of what prompted the sudden sound. That was about when the duct suddenly gave out, and I fell through. With a thud, I landed on a table in the center of the bridge directly on my belly. The impact did not feel very pleasant.

"Um…" someone said.

When I glanced up, five Talon infantrymen with weapons were staring back at me. I waved.

"Intruder in the bridge!"


	9. Worst Friends Forever

"Well, you see," I began with a Cyclonian's crystal cane aimed right at my head, "I'm not an 'intruder' per se – I was just investigating the…"

"The air conditioning system?" someone drawled.

The Cyclonians standing before me looked past me, and I slowly turned around to do the same.

The speaker, a dark-eyed heavyset Cyclonian officer, strolled into the bridge with an eyebrow arched up and a hand stroking his bearded chin. "Lemme guess… you must be in the maintenance crew," he ventured with a thick accent. He didn't stop walking until he was right next to my landing-table.

I stared at him blankly.

"Yes, siree!" he continued with a rather smug grin. "Fits the stereotype real well, what with the fancy _tactical outfit _and the _blue goggles_. Nice touch for a _janitor_, or whatever story you're tryin' to sell us."

I scooted off of the table and dropped my feet down. "So I understand that you aren't as stupid as you look," I said, trying to stand up straight in a defiant pose – the attempt did not go very well considering the arrogant man in front of me was quite a bit taller than I was. The sound of a Cyclonian weapon charging up behind me did little to aid my confidence.

"Whoa, whoa, son. Don't get jumpy," he snapped at one of the soldiers behind me. After a mumbled apology from the offender, he shifted his firm gaze back to me. "Let the lady have her joke. She ain't got much else to hurt anyone with."

"I have a name, you know," I hissed back.

"So do I, ma'am. They call me Mr. Moss," he said with a chuckle. "But I'm afraid that your name and your reasons for being on this here airship ain't none of my concern – leastways, they ain't at the moment. What _is_ my concern is makin' sure you find yourself in the brig 'til I can discuss this li'l 'intruder' problem with the commander of the ship."

"What makes you believe that I'll go quietly?" I asked with a glare, balled fists held at my sides.

He tipped his hat and inspected me briefly. "W-e-e-e-ll…" he drawled, stroking his chin again. "I'm gonna have to remind you, ma'am, that you're unarmed, outnumbered, and a little on the skinny side. Now you can go ahead and try to fight all of us with your spindly li'l arms, there, but I reckon it wouldn't be too difficult to pick you up and carry you to the brig m'self."

After hearing a few chuckles from the soldiers behind me, I was immediately beset by a strong urge to yell, "I am not _spindly_!" but managed to resist it.

I briefly considered the hopelessness of the scene. Starling obviously wasn't intending on swooping in to rescue me if she hadn't already, and I was definitely not going to be able to incapacitate a six-man squad of armed soldiers alone. Once I was certain that Moss was right, I let my arms fall limp at my sides. "Very well. I submit," I muttered in a defeated tone.

"Smart," Moss commented with a nod of approval. "I want you two to pick up all this here junk and assess the damage," he said to the Talons while I glanced at the hole in the ceiling. My Sky Knight in shining armor was nowhere to be found.

Maybe _this_ kind of thing was why I hated Starling, I considered.

"And you three can escort the prisoner to the brig," he continued. "I'm a-gonna see if I can find the Master and fill her in. Make sure the '_janitor' _is locked up nice 'n' tight by then," he said with a chuckle.

"Yes, sir," the lead Cyclonian soldier said with a sharp salute.

Another one of them patted my back roughly and then pointed to the door, so while under the threat of being zapped by a Firebolt Crystal, I started walking.

**(._.)**

My head was hanging low and my shoulders were sagging. I was certainly not in the best of situations – my hands were cuffed behind my back and there was the small matter of the three man armed escort determined to see me brought into a cell.

I raised my head a bit and peeked around the hallway. Two of the Cyclonians were ahead of me, weapons at the ready. The last one was following just behind us, and kept clearing his throat. I considered my options.

Running away would probably earn me a sharp pain in the back and a trip to unconsciousness – that is, if I didn't fall flat on my face due to my hands being bound – so I scratched that out. What else could I do? Were my choices really limited to running away or… or, what? Head-butting a few of them before being incapacitated?

I heard some sort of thud behind me, but didn't really think anything of it. I supposed the guard behind me must have stubbed his toe or stumbled, so I kept walking without checking. Besides, I had more important things to think about, like… wait.

The guard had stopped clearing his throat every few seconds.

I raised an eyebrow and glanced behind me, not slowing my walking pace. I found myself a foot away from Starling, who was walking calmly down the hallway seemingly without a regard for stealth. The Cyclonian who had been in the back of our group was in an unconscious heap to the side of the hall several feet away.

Starling pointed to the right – my left – and I glanced over at where she was pointing. It was a fork in the hall. I kept staring forward and calmly turned right, breaking off from the unsuspecting guards who were in front of us.

Once we were out of sight of the main hall, Starling grabbed my cuffs and abruptly severed them with her set of nunchucks.

"You took your time," I noted, to which she shrugged. "That was a very risky stunt you just pulled."

"Sometimes risky stunts pay off," she replied with a grin.

"Remind me how you talked me into this," I mumbled sourly.

She chuckled. "I suppose I appealed to your good nature."

I began rubbing my temples. "Oh, yes. That must be it." It was hard to contain the venom in my voice. "We need to get out of here. Now."

"Agreed," Starling said, seemingly oblivious to my increasing animosity. "It should be this way. Hurry!"

Her behavior had incensed me to the point that I was considering striking her, but she was already heading merrily down the hallway like a graceful deer that I would rather have liked to shoot in the chest. I followed after her glumly, glancing around for any would-be pursuers.

Not seeing any, I went down the hall after her but paused at a door with "Crystal Storage" written next to it in on a small sign.

"Starling, wait," I hissed. She got the idea.

I turned the handle and pushed forward – the room was dimly lit and filled with different crates of colorful gems in neat rows, racks, and stacks. My eyes went wide when I saw what was on the center counter – three of the red crystals.

"Are those… the crystals the Cyclonians are after?" Starling asked uncertainly.

I snatched a box from the floor and opened it up. "Yes. These are definitely the ones." I grabbed each crystal and dumped them in the container one by one, then held the medium-sized box under my arm. "Let's move."

Thankfully, we arrived back at the cargo hold without any opposition. While Starling took a few donut boxes off of the handlebars and seat of her Slip-Wing that she'd placed there as camouflage against any dimwitted investigators, I shuffled through some of the cardboard boxes on the floor to my vehicle, flipped open the storage compartment, and stuffed my box of crystals inside. It _just_ managed to fit.

After she flipped the hatch release lever and hopped on her skimmer, she glanced back at me. "Looks like they've been circling Terra Saharr for a while now! We should hurry!" she called over the wind, then flipped open her wings for a quick exit.

I followed suit out of the flagship's dark innards, and I began squinting around to find where she had turned. I can't stand this heat, I thought with a grimace. Then, I saw Starling's skimmer close to the ground, heading toward the tent city. I smiled when I realized that I wouldn't have to be following the purple-haired annoyance around anymore once I got there…

**(._.)**

Starling touched down amid a crowd and nearly leaped off her skimmer to stand in the middle of the group, issuing a hurried explanation of the situation. I dismounted my ride and leaned against a nearby shed wall, just outside of the crowd. I narrowed my eyes and observed her with a subdued expression.

"One of the Storm Hawks already alerted you all of the Cyclonians circling the terra!" she began with a sweeping gesture toward the flagship. "They are after something on Saharr, but I am not sure yet what they will do to get it. They are not to be underestimated. Our forces are capable, but unlike us, they are fueled by desperation and vengeance. Everyone fit to fight should go to their squadrons and prepare, and those who are not should seek shelter."

People began splitting up immediately – those with ragtag armor headed to their vehicles and squadrons to prepare for the worst.

I briefly considered the situation. Starling had, in a selfless act of human decency, risked her life – and, well, mine – just to find out what the Cyclonians were doing. She certainly fit the definition of a hero. All things considered, I'd done nothing in my brief amnesia-filled stint in the Atmos but be saved by heroes, meet heroes, stay with heroes, talk with heroes, and work alongside heroes. I was a capable pilot – apparently – a practitioner of some kind of martial art – once again, apparently – and I'd been learning crystal science from who may be two of the best minds in the field. I certainly had enough going for me to try out the 'hero' thing, too, right? I mean, none of my memories had come back, and it didn't seem like they were going to anytime soon…

In the middle of my internal debate, Starling's eyes shifted from the crowd directly into mine, ending my discussion. She then began walking over.

"You're a rather good speaker," I commented absently while shaking the collar of my shirt a few times to dissipate heat.

"Yes, I suppose… the temperature is miserable out here, isn't it?" she asked with a small smile.

I nodded grimly, but then I furrowed my brow. "You know, Starling," I began quietly, glancing around for any would-be eavesdroppers – there weren't any – "I have to admit that, for some reason, I really disliked you when we first spoke. Rather, up until just now."

She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"And perhaps 'dislike' is too light of a term… but I digress. I'd like to say that perhaps I was wrong about you, even though I'm still not sure why I felt such a way to begin with. You have my apologies."

"Well, I appreciate that," she said earnestly with a soft smile still visible on her face. "Although, are you saying that I just made a bad impression, or…?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, it's sort of a long story, but I have amnesia."

She stared blankly at me, so I decided to continue.

"I woke up on some kind of bandit vessel in Terra Deep… we were ambushed by Cyclonians and I ended up falling to what would have been my death, had Piper not saved me in the nick of time," I said with a small nod. "I've been staying with them since then, but since it doesn't seem like my memory wants to come back, I'm not sure what I'm going to do."

Before she had a chance to reply, I sighed and pulled off my goggles. With my head hanging down, I gently rubbed my eyes. They apparently didn't like the constant bright blue of the area – it was way too sunny. "Sorry, these are just bothering me. I don't really like the desert," I explained, glancing up.

"Well, then that makes two of…" She stopped.

I stared blankly at her – it was like the breath caught in her throat. She was just standing there, arms limp at her sides with a queer expression on her face.

"Starling?" I asked with a frown. After a few seconds, I had to squint due to the full power of the desert sun. I slipped my goggles back on and looked back up at her.

"Um… I just realized," she began slowly, still giving me a weird stare. "I forgot to… talk to Piper about the… what the Cyclonians are after."

"That's fine. I could come with you," I offered, gesturing in the general direction of the _Condor_.

"No!" she blurted, but then cleared her throat. "No… it's fine. It should only take a moment."

I let my hand fall. "…Okay."

"Thanks anyway," she added lamely before departing with haste.

I leaned against the shed again, glancing around at the rather deserted section of the tent city. I recalled that this, judging from the stand in the center, was what had been the bustling bazaar whose patrons the Storm Hawks and I had waded through when Aerrow and Finn had registered for the race…

"Celine!" a familiar voice called, to which I glanced over.

"Piper," I greeted with a small wave. I was still feeling rather awkward from Starling's odd departure, however. "Uh, you do know that Starling is looking for you, right?"

"Oh, I didn't see her. Where is she?" she asked.

"She was headed toward the _Condor_," I replied, pointing down the dusty trail toward the few parked ships. A few knights were walking up and down the road in the distance, but Starling did not seem to be among them.

"That's odd," Piper commented, crossing her arms. "I didn't see her and I came here_ from_ the _Condor._"

"Well, then… where did she go?" I queried.

Piper shrugged. "What did she need, anyway?"

"Well, apparently the Cyclonians are after the red crystals we found. They had a radar system that picked up their locations…" I explained, waiting for Piper's input.

"Oh. Hmm..." she murmured, furrowing her brow. "If we put them in a sufficiently thick metal container, that would help minimize the signal…" She trailed off with a sour expression on her face. "Oh, but I blew the crystal containment unit's seal when I did that experiment with the Leecher dust…"

"Couldn't we use my skimmer's storage compartment? It's got solid steel plating," I reminded her, while fanning my face with my hand.

She stroked her chin. "You know, that could work."

"Alright, I guess we should do that as soon as possible, and then wait to see if the Cyclonians…" I stared at Piper, whose features were suddenly quizzical… and blurry. With an unintentional sway, I managed to utter "just the heat" as a breathless explanation. My worn gaze fell on my hand, which seemed rather distant…

Something slammed against my back, knocking the wind out of me. After the initial hit registered, I blearily realized that everything seemed a bit dimmer than it should've been, especially in the middle of the day… why was I on my back?

"Celine?!"

**(._.)**

"I know something you don't know."

…What?

"Open your eyes."

When I did, two sparkly purple ones were staring directly into mine from about a foot away, just under a hood. Between her and the familiar dark environment, I knew exactly where I was. Again.

"Get away from me!" I hissed, climbing onto my feet from under the watchful eye of the bowing monarch.

"That's not very kind," she remarked absently. Her lips were fixed in a familiar, knowing smile, and her eyes were playful. I felt like she and an invisible crowd were laughing at a joke that I'd missed out on.

"What do you want?" I snapped, straightening my Storm Hawk-esque outfit with both hands. Cyclonis' expression was beginning to be unnerving, and I was debating on whether or not I actually wanted an explanation. "What are you gonna do, teach me about crystals? Hmph."

"Actually, it's funny that you should mention that," Cyclonis began quietly, rubbing her hands together in a motion that could symbolize nervousness, anticipation, or just overall creepiness. "Those lessons are not going to be necessary any longer – from me or from Piper." She smiled a wide, toothy smile that seemed uncharacteristic for her – that increased the weirdness factor immensely.

"Should I ask why?" My mouth felt a bit dry, which seemed odd considering the meeting was taking place in my mind… I adjusted my footing and tried to reassure myself. She couldn't hurt me – well, at least that badly. I repeated that in my mind when she took a few steps closer to me.

"Well, maybe a day from now you'll be as much of an expert with crystals as I am," she said offhandedly, casually motioning with her hands while speaking. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and the corner of her mouth rose in a small grin. "And the goal was never to teach you. It was to put you in a certain mindset; to bring back a few old, familiar things... old, familiar _feelings_. You had to be started on the right path. Think of it as therapy for your affliction…" She trailed off, still approaching.

"My affliction?" I asked blankly. "You mean the amnesia?"

She clapped softly, with a smirk hanging smugly on her face. "Correct." She stopped just a few inches away.

"Well, wait… you're saying that just hearing about crystals is helping me get my memory back?" I asked, taken aback. I hadn't felt anything of the kind when I was learning about the topics Piper had explained, and nothing seemed familiar about Cyclonis' brief introduction, either.

"Well?" Cyclonis whispered. "You remember how you felt about Starling, don't you?"

Starling…

"You hated her immediately. The little purple-haired hero strutting around, acting _so _just… with just a little touch of arrogance," she spat, holding her hands together with a grim expression.

"So, what? She's a good person. Hating her right off the bat like that wasn't justified," I reasoned, somewhat unsure of what Cyclonis was going to reveal next.

"The only reason you felt that little breakthrough was because of the crystals," she explained. "That's really the only memory that has worked its way out so far – and a vague feeling at that. Given time, I would've taught you every night all about crystals, and Piper would've done the same during the day… and I'm sure that would've done the trick eventually. However…" She leaned in close enough that I could feel the warm breath of her words on my cheek. "It's going to hit you like a cargo ship very, very soon."

"Why?" I breathed, suddenly beset by a feeling of dread and uncertainty. "My memory's going to come back? But… if I hated Starling, what kind of person was I? You must know the answer to that."

"I can't tell you, but you'll know the answer to that soon enough," she whispered, edging still closer.

"But…" I inhaled sharply when I felt her hands on my back, and I suddenly realized that I was being hugged by a psychotic dictator. While I glanced between her hooded head whose chin hung just above my left shoulder, then directly in front of me, I tried to decide whether or not I was fighting waves of revulsion or just confusion.

"Our time together is drawing to a close," she said quietly. "We will likely speak again before you regain your memory."

"Why… I mean… what do you have to…"

She sighed. "This may sound like the strangest thing you have ever heard, but I may be the only person you know that could be considered a true friend."

I stood there with my hands by my sides when she let go and stepped back a few inches. Her eyes – still the only thing above her nose I could see with any clarity under her hood – had an odd sense of weariness about them.

"You should wake up now."


	10. Cancer

**[ Author's Note:**

**Juuuuuust saying, I'm definitely committed to finishing this, even if it's super slow. I'd certainly appreciate a little more reviewing, though. Heh heh heh. **

**~CWO ]**

I shot forward, sucking in lungful after lungful of air. Staring around, I noticed that I was _once again_ waking up in a bed that I hadn't remembered getting into, and upon further inspection I found it to be my room on the _Condor. _With a sigh, I tried to remember what had happened. I was talking with Piper when… I fainted.

I smacked myself mentally – I managed to win a race, help someone I didn't even like at first on a crazy mission just because it seemed like the right thing to do, and return to help in the event of a Cyclonian attack, and before the last objective was done, I'd collapsed on the sand like a piece of dried fruit. I stared at my hands awkwardly, judging whether or not my vision was impaired. When they seemed a little foggy, I ran them across my face and noticed that my goggles were missing.

While I wasn't sure what exactly happened between me passing out and waking up on top of my bed – I briefly wondered why no one had bothered to put a blanket on me, but then I considered that warmth might not be considered a good thing for me taking into account the manner in which I'd reacted to it last – but the Storm Hawks must have dragged me back to the _Condor…_

My head was killing me. I let myself fall back into a relaxed position. My pillow felt rather pleasant – better than hitting sand, at least. I would never be able to live that down. My stomach ached, my chest ached – so did a few random muscles. All in all, I felt about a step above sick-with-flu, and about a step down from fell-down-flight-of-stairs. I turned on my side to compensate for a sudden_ extra_ aching in the left side of my head.

I recalled my most recent unconscious visit from Master Cyclonis, and frowned. Apparently we truly were allies, and she seemed to be in favor of me gaining my memory back. Naturally, that raised the question of my current lifestyle of waltzing through the days without a care in the world, but in the company of a group of heroes – if I was, according to Cyclonis, her "true friend", what kind of damage would that do if the Storm Hawks found out?

I can't have been a publicly wanted person, I reasoned. Otherwise, they wouldn't have rescued me in the first place, or, if they had, they would've dumped me in prison immediately. They must be clueless.

I found myself cracking my knuckles one by one down my left hand. I was nervous. Here I was, sitting in my own personal bubble in my own personal world, wondering. What would happen if my memory came back? How would it come back?

My thoughts drifted to the Storm Hawks again. They were good people, and I owed them my life. I owed Piper doubly so, seeing as she was the one who pulled me out of the abyss, quite literally. I couldn't remember my past life, so saying that no one had ever shown such kindness to me was half true…

I leaned up and plucked the old book from the nightstand. Once I arranged my pillows well enough to prop myself up comfortably, I flipped it open to the page I had stopped at. Interestingly enough, I was almost done with the book. Celine, with her elite squad, was leading an attack on a formidable enemy force composed of those that flew the flag of Atmosia. I had almost reached the end of the second to last chapter, in which the final events of the battle were told.

**(._.)**

_And, at great length, the crusaders, bruised and beaten, were forced to the very last bastion of their budding republic, the terra of Atmosia, whose grassy plains had been the first dominion of the new Republic of Atmosia, and, perhaps, the last._

_The Sky Knight of Cyclonia stepped down onto the grass from the air, sword readied but held at her side. "Lay down your arms, and you shall be spared," called Celine. "No harm shall come to those who pledge allegiance to the empire."_

**(._.)**

There was a knock at my door, so I placed my book back on the nightstand and carefully slid to the side of the bed. Upon placing my feet on the floor and standing up, I felt stable at first, but then a little dazed. I shook my head and tried to focus.

"Come in," I called hoarsely, immediately surprised at the sound of my voice. I coughed.

"Are you okay? I brought you some water," Piper murmured with a sympathetic tone in her voice.

She handed me a glass, and I accepted it awkwardly. "Thank you. I'm sorry about this."

She shrugged. "It's… it's fine. You went through a lot yesterday. Things happen… I guess."

I stopped sipping the water from my glass and stared blankly at her. "Yesterday? I've been out for a day?" I asked demandingly. "What about the Cyclonians? What happened?"

"It's okay," she began, holding up a hand. "They, well, they left. I guess they weren't willing to risk their resources against getting those crystals. I put them in your skimmer like you suggested…" She turned away with a frown.

I looked Piper up and down. Her hands were clasped awkwardly in front of her, and she seemed to be a little shaky. She glanced over at me, but then immediately looked away.

"Piper, what's wrong?" I asked quietly, taking a step closer.

She took a step away. "I'm sorry. I just… I need to talk to someone. Just stay here. Please. And if she… well, if someone comes before I do, just wait for me. Okay?" she asked breathlessly, staring at me with a pleading expression.

"Piper, what's going on…?" I asked quietly, trying to search her pained expression for an answer. There wasn't one.

"Please. I'll be back."

After she stepped out, the door closed quietly, and I felt alone. Aside from loneliness, however, I felt uncertainty. Fear, even. What event had possibly brought Piper to such a state?

_Knock knock._

I turned around and stared at the door. My mind exploded in a thousand disjointed thoughts – Piper had just left. Even if it was her, which was unlikely, she most likely would not have knocked before entering given how brief her errand would have been. The knock was quick and rather hard – it was not a friendly knock. Piper had told me to wait for her if someone else came to my door…

"Open the door," a muffled female voice called from the other side of the door. She was gruff, stern, and completely devoid of emotion. There was a twinge of an accent on her words.

"Uh, who is it?" I asked hopefully.

"Open the door and we can discuss that."

"I'm sorry, but Piper told me not to answer the door until she returned," I replied, figuring that the honest approach would be best. Even if it wasn't, stalling for time was always a good course of action.

"She has been detained. Open the door."

My eyes widened. What had she done to Piper? I glanced down at the door's locking mechanism. Piper had used a key to lock it before she left. I sighed. She wasn't coming back if what the person behind the door was telling the truth, so I flipped it to the unlocked position and it slid open.

When I glanced up, Starling was there to greet me with a swift blow to stomach. I coughed and sank a bit, clutching my belly. While I was in that position, she grabbed me by my shoulders and forced me onto the ground. I felt my arms being yanked forcibly behind my back before I could even react to the initial strike; once I heard a metallic clicking sound, I realized my wrists were bound together.

"The Council has called for your arrest due to crimes against the Atmos. As Sky Knight and leader of the Interceptors, it is my duty to ensure you are taken to Atmosia, where you will receive a fair trial moderated by a jury of your peers." Her words were cold, and rang with the practiced authority of one familiar with enforcing the law. "Have you anything to say in your defense?"

From the floor, I looked back at her with a dumbfounded stare. "What… what have I done?" I asked quietly. "I'm not a criminal." I wiggled my hands in a futile gesture.

Starling seemed to falter. "I… you have a right to question your arrest once in custody of the Atmosian court."

I twisted in an attempt to rise to my feet, but Starling was already pulling me up. Still weak from the unprovoked attack, I hobbled down the hallway, ushered along quickly. I glanced back and forth between Starling and the floor, thoughts going through my mind like grains of sand in a sandstorm. There were so many, and all they did was hurt.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked weakly. A response was not forthcoming.

Once we were off of the _Condor_, she pushed me again by my cuffs in the direction of another parked cruiser. It was much smaller than the _Condor_, and it was dull gray in color. She shoved me along firmly across the sandy walk, and I glanced around. No one else was outside by the parked skimmers, and the only other people I could see were down by the bazaar rather far away. I glanced back at the cruiser I was being led to, and I paused. The hatch was open, and only darkness waited ahead.

"Move, and don't even think about running – your skimmer's already been impounded," she said coldly as she led me up into the vessel.

I thought about asking why I was being arrested, again, but that would be useless. I kept my shoulders squared as I was ushered into the ship, then down the dim metal corridor to the brig – surprisingly, the brig was rather well lit, albeit with electric lighting that had a grating, bright white color to it. She unfastened the cell door and shoved me inside, then slammed it shut unceremoniously.

Once I was in the cell, I immediately turned around and stared at Starling. She locked the door with a small black key, and then, without meeting my eyes, turned and walked away. I looked back toward the area outside my cell, and there was a ragged-looking young man in a militia uniform sitting on a rickety wooden chair. He seemed to flinch at my gaze.

"Hello," I mumbled. My hands were clinging to the iron of the bars, and they felt about as cold as my heart did. "I don't suppose that you want to tell me why I'm under arrest, either."

His expression shifted from a blank expression to one of surprise. "You're kidding."

While curling my hands tighter around the bars, my frown turned to a grimace. "I assure you that I'm not joking," I murmured. "But feel free to ignore my question just like _she_ did."

He shrugged and crossed his legs again. "Fair enough," he added while picking up the book underneath his chair. He flipped it open and started reading.

I made a little exasperated grunt and let go of the bars. When I turned around, I saw that my cell had all the basic amenities of a little prison, including a little cot, a sink, and a dingy-looking mirror. I paced over to the cot and sat, recounting the events of my bewildering arrest over again in my head. I didn't understand why Starling had done it – I'd helped her, and I had even finally accepted that she was a good person. Was this the universe's way of laughing at me in some kind of sick joke on a cosmic scale?

I turned and flattened out on the sad, gray cot, and when I glanced over, the guard was still sitting there, reading his book. I flipped onto my side, letting my eyelids droop a bit, and I began to feel sorry for myself. All of the unfairness in the scenario managed to accent my misery, and for a moment I felt like I was about to cry.

I wondered where Piper was, or what she was doing. Had she tried to keep Starling from arresting me? I knew she had been worried. What had happened to her after she had supposedly been "detained"? Did Starling just prevent her from interfering, or something else?

The cot below me lurched, and I realized that the ship was taking off. The guard reading his book glanced up when he heard the hull of the medium-sized vessel shudder, but then he looked back down at his book.

My eyelids felt heavy. I was sad and exhausted, but I hated myself for doing pretty much nothing about my situation but sleeping. That didn't stop me from losing consciousness; despite deliberately trying to keep my eyes open, they kept drifting closed. I welcomed the escape from reality.

**(._.)**

"Hello again," a cold voice called.

I opened my eyes, and the familiar hooded figure was staring down at me once again. "What do you want?" I asked tiredly.

"I wanted to have our last meeting. I even showed you the courtesy of scheduling in advance," Cyclonis replied quietly, extending a pale hand.

I warily clasped hands with her and let her help me up. "So, what? Are you gonna give me some wonderful insight about my current situation? Maybe you'll tell me who I actually am, too?" I asked, with just a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

A small smile appeared on her face. "Well, I could just say that your initial opinion of Starling was correct after all," she murmured with a chuckle.

With a sigh, I navigated past a pile of shattered stone until I reached an overturned pillar, which I sat on. I stared at my shoes to avoid looking at Cyclonis and the barren nightmare world. Unsurprisingly, Cyclonis sat down next to me.

"Remember the Cyclonians on Terra Atmosia?" she asked slowly.

I nodded. "What about them?"

"You helped the old man. Why did you do that?"

I could feel her eyes on my face, even if they were darkened by her hood. I shrugged. "It was the right thing to do."

She paused for a moment. "…Is that the only reason?"

I paused, uncertain of what to say.

Cyclonis clasped her hands together with a pensive expression. "Tell me," she began quietly, voice suddenly low and tired. "If some sort of device were attached to a power source via a conductor, what would happen?"

I glanced down at my shoes. "Well, power would go to it through the conductor," I said slowly. I didn't know exactly where the conversation was going.

"Yes," she said, and then took in a deep breath. "But," she continued quietly, "what would happen if too much power was being channeled through a conductor incapable of handling it, with nowhere for the excess energy to go?"

I sighed. "I'm sick and tired of these games. I'm in no mood to answer your riddles; I've got more important things to worry about." I glanced over at Cyclonis, and I could tell her eyes were narrowed underneath her hood. She was livid.

"Very well," she breathed. "I'll show you, instead."

The world dissolved in black.

**(._.)**

Master Cyclonis stomped down the strange, empty hall of the crystal cathedral until she reached the short stairs to the altar. At that altar, she had gained the knowledge to refit her Nightcrawler army with weapons so powerful, nothing like them had been seen on Atmos for generations.

But it had been a futile gesture.

"Cyclonis," Piper called sternly from behind her.

Cyclonis sighed when she reached the top of the steps, hand on the banister. She glanced back at the unhappy tactician.

Piper stood in the center of the room. "Stop."

"You're alone," Cyclonis said flatly. It wasn't a question.

Her opponent stayed still. "Cyclonis, you need to surrender." It wasn't a question, either.

"Me? Surrender?" Cyclonis asked with a pointed glare. "I'm not going to do that. I am Master Cyclonis, heir to the throne, Master of Cyclonia, and I refuse to be beaten by a bunch of… of… _children._"

"You already lost," Piper reasoned. "Just… just give up. I don't want to have to fight you. Not anymore. The war is over."

"The war isn't over. The war can't ever be 'over'," Cyclonis hissed, waving her staff angrily. "All you've done is prolonged it. More people will suffer, and for what? For your _ideals_?"

"Cyclonis, listen," Piper began with a frown.

"No_, you _listen to _me,_" Cyclonis shot back. With a flinty expression, she continued. "Humans are disgusting creatures. You sit around, wasting your time, always trying to get ahead of others. You're all trying to profit off of others' misery, poverty, and suffering. And for what? So you can be more comfortable before you die? Pathetic."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Piper asked quietly.

"_Everything_!" Cyclonis yelled, threatening to lose her grip on her staff. "You've doomed everyone! You and your friends have. I could've brought… unity! World peace! Don't you get it? There wouldn't be any more war, or piracy, or untold suffering… with someone like _me_ in charge."

"You're being hypocritical," Piper replied grimly. "Not all people are good, that's true. But if that's true, then you can't force them to be good, either. Your dictatorship wouldn't have worked. And eventually, people could band together and improve their lives by themselves – they wouldn't need someone like you."

"You must be joking," the master responded, with her nose wrinkled in disgust. "I could've set the world right again."

"You did set Atmos right again," Piper replied coolly.

Her words hung in the air for a moment.

"How?" Cyclonis asked quietly, unable to resist her opponent's remark.

Piper smirked. "By losing."

Cyclonis gripped both of her hands around her staff. "Now you're going to regret coming in here by yourself," she said coldly as she stepped back down the stairs.

Piper responded by withdrawing her answer to Cyclonis' crystal staff, a slightly less ornate staff of her own. "You can't win this," Piper said quietly.

"Be quiet," Cyclonis hissed, and the two combatants began circling.

Unsurprisingly, Cyclonis was the first to make a move. She spun her staff around and aimed the mounted crystal at Piper's head. When a red blast of energy fired out of it, Piper responded by sending a blue bolt of energy right through it, obliterating it completely. It continued through the impact and hit Cyclonis' staff, which fizzled and sparked – the mounted crystal went out completely.

"What… how?" Cyclonis asked, mouth hanging open. She tapped the crystal, to no effect.

"I put a blocking crystal strip in the focuser," Piper said emotionlessly, gesturing to her staff. "I got the charge to last longer, but it only works on a few types of crystals. Yours is one of them."

"What, you think that's my only one?" Cyclonis snarled, tossing the staff in Piper's direction, even though she nimbly dodged out of the way.

The master dug desperately in her pocket as Piper took a step toward her. With a differently-colored crystal now in each hand, she muttered something to herself and knocked them together. They rang with a clear, loud note, and began glowing a soft purple.

"It's working," Cyclonis said absently. She glanced up at Piper with a smile. "Looks like I'm going to win after all. With the power from…" She dropped one of the crystals.

Piper stared at her blankly.

"No, what…?" Cyclonis whispered, sinking to one knee. The crystal that had fallen was still glowing, as was the one in her left hand.

The fallen master began hyperventilating. She dropped the other glowing crystal on the floor after examining it rapidly, and then she clutched her head with a pained expression.

"No, no. I can't stop it now…" she said to herself.

"Cyclonis, what did you just do?" Piper asked carefully, taking a step back.

Cyclonis tried to get off of her knee and back to her feet, but she suddenly slipped and hit the ground with a gasp. She twisted around on the floor to look at her right foot, which had silently crystallized.

"No… no, no, not like this…" Cyclonis said, pulling her knees up to her chest. She picked up the crystals again and stared at them numbly.

Piper could do nothing but watch the horror show unfold.

The crystallized portion of Cyclonis' leg spread slowly, as Cyclonis continued fiddling with her unresponsive crystals. "Piper? Piper?" Cyclonis asked quickly, glancing between her opponent and thigh-high frozen limb.

Piper took another step backward.

"Piper… Piper, please. Do something!" Cyclonis pleaded. "Anything!"

Piper continued stepping away from Cyclonis with a distant stare in her eye.

"Stop! _Help me_!" Cyclonis begged, voice breaking. She fell onto her chest when both of her legs were claimed by the spreading crystalline cancer. "You're supposed to be a _hero!_" Cyclonis shouted, voice suddenly hard. "Do something immediately!" She grabbed the floor with her hands and pulled with her remaining strength, moving a few inches each tug.

"I can't…" Piper whispered. She turned around and continued walking away, but paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Goodbye, my friend."

Cyclonis stared blankly at Piper. "_You_… I hate you," she called, but frowned. She couldn't even think of what to say that could possibly convey her immeasurable grief, hatred, and refusal to accept her situation. She landed on her side when everything below her midsection had been turned into a dull purple crystal version of the flesh and bone that had been there just minutes before.

"I can't feel my hands," the defeated master whispered to herself, as Piper had long since become a blurry figure in the distance.

…

_I can't… I can't breathe…_


	11. Revelation

Without recalling that I had opened my eyes, Cyclonis was visible. I glared at her.

"You had no business showing me that," I snapped, standing up from where I had been seated on the overturned pillar. I faced away from her. "I won't tolerate this interaction anymore. Stay out of my head. I'm sorry for what happened to you, but if you intend for me to get revenge for you – or avenge you, if you're actually dead, or something – I'm not going to do it." Closing my eyes, I massaged my temples with my fingertips. "I'm in a terrible situation as it is. I don't need you to add to it."

"So be it. There's only one thing left to do, then," Cyclonis murmured.

I gasped out of surprise when Cyclonis wrapped her arm around my neck. She jerked around sharply, obviously trying to wrestle me into a headlock. I wrapped my fingers around her arm in an attempt to pull myself free of her grasp.

"Not quite!" she spat.

I stumbled backward from her rough yank. Her move served to distract me from slipping out of her hold, and I found myself clawing futilely at the tight sleeves of her imperial outfit. In desperation, I reached behind my head, firmly grabbed what I assumed was either her hood or where her hood met the shoulder-piece of her robe, and pulled forward with all of the strength I had left.

With a dull sense of surprise, I felt the rather thin monarch's weight against my back, and although her grip around my neck began to slacken, I knew that gravity was on my side from that point on. I continued the motion, and Cyclonis flipped over, and onto the ground with a rather unceremonious thud.

She moaned and twitched a bit on the ground, then slowly turned onto her side. Although her hood was drawn and shrouded her face, she seemed to be in pain. I took a few steps in her direction, and she immediately seized my foot, yanked hard on it, and sent me spiraling to the ground. Before I knew what was going on, she was above me with her hands wrapped around my throat. I grabbed at her hands while she slammed my head against the hard stone, but once I felt my strength begin to fade, I pushed hard with my leg and rolled with Cyclonis, taking her place.

Her grip slackened along with mine when we realized we'd landed in something wet. I glanced to the side and saw that we had rolled into a destroyed fountain. I stared back down at Cyclonis and weighed my options. She stared back.

I grabbed her by the neck and slammed her head against the base of the fountain's basin, and she began clawing and gasping as I had been just a moment before. Water rushed in to replace the air pocket generated when I pushed her under, and she twisted and pulled against me, splashing a bit of water in my face. I felt a dead feeling in my chest as I kept holding her under the water, and the sensation spread when I noticed her motions were becoming slow and weak. Eventually, she wasn't tugging or clawing at my hands anymore.

I slowly took my hands away from her throat, and stared at them. They were scratched and cut from Cyclonis' resistance. I shook some reddened water off of them and wiped my face with my sleeve – the sick feeling in my stomach was deepening.

I stared down at water, and saw the pale face framed with black, flowing hair. Her purple eyes had faded. I was about to look away out of disgust, but my heart beat once and stopped with the strength of a clock tower tolling.

Looking down, I could see my own reflection in the water. What I couldn't see was where my reflection ended and her face began. My heart hammered at a fever pitch. The revelation had begun.

"So, I'm Cyclonis, then," I stated.

The black memories of the past crashed into me like physical blows. The horrors I had witnessed, and the horrors I had executed bloomed in my mind, and as the sick dream world which was just a product of my own fractured subconscious blew away around me, I surrendered. There was nothing to do except give into my mind's frenzied processing, and pray that I would still be human.

But then, just like that, it was done. The ravine cut into my consciousness had been pulled together.

I was the heir to the throne of Cyclonia. I was a creature without remorse, regret, or petty morality. I was Master Cyclonis.

And I knew… no. _Cyclonis_ knew what had to be done.

**(._.)**

"Piper, please, calm down."

"Calm down?!" Piper yelled. "How can I calm down? Do you have any idea what you did?"

"I had to come clean with Starling. If I didn't admit the situation, it would've been worse," Aerrow reasoned with a wince. "You know that."

"Aerrow!" Piper squeaked out of exasperation. She took a deep breath, plopped down in a seat at the table on the bridge, and promptly began massaging her temples.

Stork had left the ship on autopilot as its course from Terra Saharr to Atmosia was mostly smooth sailing. White, fluffy clouds blew past the _Condor_, completely ignorant of the argument going on in the bridge, or of Piper's fears, which were likely justified.

"She should've listened. You should've listened!" Piper insisted, gaze firm and accusatory. "They have Cyclonis now. Who knows what'll happen…"

"It was a bad idea to keep her like that. She's not a pet," Aerrow added uncomfortably. He sheepishly pulled another chair out from the table, and then sat down across from Piper. "She's dangerous. Giving her up to Starling was the right thing to do, and it kept us from being guilty of harboring a wanted war criminal."

Piper propped her head up on her balled hand, shooting a sideways glare at Aerrow. "She had amnesia," she murmured stubbornly.

"And what would've happened when Master Cyclonis herself suddenly realized who she was while we were all sleeping in our bedrooms?" he asked with a pointed stare. He waved his hand for Piper to say something after a brief pause.

Piper crossed her arms. "That's… that's a rhetorical question," she said hesitantly.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Aerrow replied with a shrug. "I guess she would've gotten her memory back if she was going to – sorry about saying that. It doesn't matter, though. If her amnesia's really permanent, I don't think they'll put her in prison."

"You don't?" Piper asked with a blank stare. Her arms fell to her sides. "Are you joking? It's Master Cyclonis. Of course they're going to put her in prison. Or worse," she added with a frown.

Despite the content of their conversation, the stillness of the afternoon and the rays of mild sunlight dropping in through the windows lent an otherworldly sense of calm to the scene.

"It'll be fine, Piper," Aerrow said with a small grin. "We'll give our statement, and maybe Cyclonis'll get acquitted."

"Yeah, I guess," Piper mumbled in response. She turned to her side, focusing on the floor.

Aerrow sighed. "I know you feel like the incident with Cyclonis was all your fault, but it just… I mean, it wasn't. You've got to stop beating yourself up about it," he urged. Once Piper met his eyes, he continued. "I mean, I'm not a psychologist, but I think that's why you were gonna go through hoops to keep Starling from taking her. You feel like you've got an obligation, right?"

"You don't have to analyze me," Piper remarked unhappily. She rolled her eyes. "You're right, though, I guess. I mean, I know I probably wouldn't have been able to stop that whole… thing, but…"

"Hey, it's okay," Aerrow interrupted. "It'll be fine. We'll clear everything up when we get to Atmosia. Really." He shot a brief thumbs-up sign in Piper's direction.

"I hope you're right," Piper mumbled under her breath.

**(._.)**

Cyclonis bolted upright and grabbed the bars of her cell tightly. The jingle of the handcuffs' chain against the metal of her cozy little cage alerted the guard, who glanced up with a curious expression.

"Something wrong?" he asked, peeking at Cyclonis past his book and raised eyebrow.

A smile appeared on her face. "Yes, actually. Could you help me with these handcuffs? I think they're a little too small. I'd be very grateful if you could find another pair, preferably one that is more my size."

"I don't run an accessory store," the guard said gruffly, but he dropped his book under his chair and stood up. "I guess I can loosen them a bit. No funny moves once the door's open, alright? I have a baton."

They both glanced down at the ruler-length wooden club attached to his belt. Cyclonis flashed him another smile in response.

"Alright, raise your hands," he ordered, and Cyclonis let go of the bars.

When the guard wrapped his hand around the key ring and was selecting the one for the cell, Cyclonis calmly raised her hands up to just above his head, pushed her hands out through the gap between two bars, one on top of the other, then spread them apart slightly once her hands were outside. She calmly lowered the chain of the handcuffs behind the guard's head.

He paused on a small, silver key. "Ah, here's the, uh…" He looked up and saw his predicament just in time for Cyclonis to yank the chain back roughly, pinning the guard's head against the cell door.

The key ring hit the ground with a metallic jingle, and Cyclonis repeatedly seized and slackened the handcuff-chain-turned-improvised-weapon, forcing the guard's head to hit the metal bars several times before letting him drop to the floor, out cold.

She quickly pulled her hands back into the cell and fiddled with the key ring, selecting the universal handcuff key. Once she managed to slide the key into the lock, one hand was free, and then soon after that, she had liberated herself from her bonds. The cell door was next.

She picked up where the guard had left off, and scrolled through the keys until she managed to locate the small silver one again. Guessing where the keyhole was, she held the key backward against the door lock mechanism and dragged it around until the key slid in with a satisfying click. She twisted it and pushed the door out with one hand.

"That went well," Cyclonis breathed, dropping the key ring on the unconscious guard's face.

There was no time to lose. She bent down and swiped the baton off of the guard's belt and entered the hallway. The ship was already off of the ground – she could see the sun hanging above the horizon out of the window, with the clouds far below. It was getting late.

"Hey, who let you out of your cell?!" a stern, female voice demanded from her left.

Cyclonis turned with a frown and stared silently at Starling. She had her hand just a few inches from her nunchucks, and she didn't look friendly.

"I asked you a question," Starling said again.

Cyclonis adjusted her footing so that she was facing Starling. "I'm going to the landing bay. Step aside," she said coldly.

"You're lucky I cut you enough slack to take you in for a trial… after what you did… well," Starling trailed off. It suddenly seemed like a light bulb went off in her head, as her facial features reset completely. "Did… did you get your memory back?"

Cyclonis made a quiet "humph" sound, then shook her head. "I'm giving you one final opportunity to let me pass, only because I do not wish to waste any more time. I do, however, doubt you'll let me do so." She paused, twirling the little officer's baton in her hand. "So, to answer your question, yes, my memory has returned."

"Then you have to be stopped," Starling replied immediately. She drew her nunchucks from her belt.

"I don't understand why you'd say 'then'… you would've stopped me anyway," Cyclonis remarked. She glanced away from Starling and around the hallway – she may be good at fighting, but she still knew fighting a Sky Knight with a police baton was a bad idea.

"Put the weapon down," Starling ordered.

Cyclonis smirked. Had it been anyone else, she thought, Starling would've tacked on an "I don't want to hurt you," or something to that effect. Not her, however. Not anymore.

"I'm warning you…"

Cyclonis immediately turned to her right and smashed her baton against a circular window. Immediately, the image of the almost-setting sun was distorted by the spider-web crack across the glass.

"Hey, stop!" Starling barked, and began approaching Cyclonis from the end of the hall, nunchucks drawn threateningly.

Cyclonis didn't give her a glance, and instead slammed the butt of the baton against the window again. There was another deep, crackling sound. She smashed it against the glass again, and this time it broke through.

Immediately, the air in the hallway started to fly out of the window. Starling's eyes went wide and a confused expression was all over her face – precisely what Cyclonis was after. She shoved the purple-haired hero into the wall away from the window and ran past her, just as the door in front of her conveniently swung open due to the vacuum created by the depressurization.

The ship lurched. Obviously, the ship's balance had been thrown off by the escaping gases, but the ship's controls could also have been disabled or, at the very least, thrown off by the sudden depressurization. Cyclonis sprinted left around the corner and flung open the door to the hangar bay. She was surprised by what she saw.

The hangar bay was open, and the solid field of clouds that signaled the entrance to the Wastelands below was taking up more and more of the horizon. The ship was pulling up for some reason, and at this rate it would likely stall. Some of the controls must have been disabled, Cyclonis considered. That was very lucky.

She located her Sabre and opened the side compartment, just to make sure the crystals were still in there. They were. As Cyclonis sealed the compartment closed again, she felt a small smirk creep onto her face. In Starling's rush to detain her, Piper probably didn't even think about the crystals until it was too late – she didn't even know what they did.

Oh, but Cyclonis knew what they did. Or rather, she thought with somewhat black humor, _now_ she knew…

The ship lurched again. If she waited any longer, things would begin sliding out of the hangar bay into the Wastelands. Now was the time to leave.

She threw her leg across the seat, switched it on, checked the gauges, and then gunned the engine right out of the hangar. Glancing back, she saw the ship's struggle – she could tell the pilot was still having a hard time regaining the balance of the ship. They really weren't likely to crash, but she was still chuckling about it – if a pilot of her caliber had been at the helm, he or she certainly wouldn't have almost flipped over the ship out of their own inadequacy.

They were such amateurs.

Cyclonis stared into the distance, trying to ignore the wind rushing past her. Yes, that was definitely Terra Atmosia far off on the horizon. She recognized the west side of the terra well enough, considering how many battle plans she'd read and written featuring its profile.

Cyclonis glanced far to the left of the terra. "That would mean the crash site would be… just about there," she murmured to herself.

With the setting sun to her left, she set off for the last place she really wanted to visit, but the only place it made sense for her to go to.

She was going to Terra Cyclonia.


	12. Resurrection

Cyclonis firmly gripped the handlebars of her Sabre to prevent from being thrown off – she'd been flying quickly to get to the spot, and landed hard when she did. She skidded to a stop against the basalt tiles of what used to be a main square.

"It's almost like I imagined it would be…" Cyclonis remarked dryly.

She glanced around the destroyed landscape – towers of stone and metal lay bent or destroyed among cranes and industrial buildings that were tilted and ruined. The edges of Terra Cyclonia were visible in the distance, crumbling to pieces, smashed against the rugged rock of the wasteland. The destruction was stunning, but there were eerily untouched areas – every few sections of street, a few buildings, a statue (usually of her) – that made things seem almost… normal.

Cyclonis threw her legs off the right side of her ride, and stared at her shoes. There was a layer of dust beginning to settle on the brick. She sighed, and then looked in the direction of the place she used to call home.

The spires of her palace were warped, and sections had crumbled down in cave-ins where the brick was hit at some point during the final battle, or maybe the fall. She wouldn't have even thought about going inside unless she had to, but she did.

With nothing but rubble and debris on either side, Cyclonis began stepping down the ripped-up black brick road.

**(._.)**

Starling lurched forward through the hallway, trying her best to remain on her feet. She paused, hand on the wall for support, and glanced out of the destroyed window. There were grassy plains and hills in the distance with the suburbs of Atmosia in the foreground. She turned back toward the door she had been trying to reach when it opened from the other side.

"You're awake! Good, uh, great," the pilot said with relief. "We were afraid to move you – you know, broken bones or something – so when we landed we called for a doctor but kept you there…"

"What?" Starling asked blearily. She blinked a few times to clear her vision, and then looked back at the pilot. "No, wait… Cyclonis… what happened to Cyclonis?"

"Uh, I was about to mention that problem," he replied, adjusting the tie on his Atmosian uniform. "You see…"

Starling narrowed her eyes. "Did she escape?" she asked quietly, still swaying slightly.

"You should really sit down if you're-…"

"_Did_ she _escape_?" Starling repeated, emphasizing her words carefully.

"Yes," the pilot replied after a moment's hesitation. Seeing Starling's furious expression, he was quick to explain. "I was busy keeping the ship from crashing after it started depressurizing, and she knocked out Jones. Grant didn't know what was going on at first, and since all the skimmers fell out when the ship stalled…"

"The skimmers… fell out?" she asked, disbelief creeping into her tone.

"Yes, the controls were thrown off, so the, uh, bay doors opened," the pilot muttered.

"Even mine?" Starling asked with a grimace.

"You mean your skimmer? Well, uh, yes."

Starling closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Come on. We need to report to the council." She didn't wait for a reply, and once she started down the hallway, she shoved the pilot's hand away when he tried to help her off the ship.

"Are you sure you're okay to walk?"

Starling spun around and grimaced at the pilot. "As long as that… that _threat_ to civilization is out there," she began ominously, pointing resolutely out of the smashed window, "then I'm up for _anything_."

The pilot shrugged.

**(._.)**

Cyclonis took a few soft, echoing steps into the dim light of what used to be her throne room. Once she was in the center of the room, she paused. Glancing between her sad, gray throne and the vaulted ceiling above, she sighed.

"I wonder what you'd think of me now, grandmother," she stated evenly in the direction of the throne. "Hmm? I wonder what advice you'd have for me…"

Needless to say, the cold stone had nothing to say in return.

"Don't feel like talking, then?" Cyclonis asked quietly, while a small, small smile began spreading across her lips. She looked away, and her smile faded. "Very well."

Cyclonis continued past the throne, stepped over a gash in the stone just behind it, and stepped through the doorway to her private quarters, since the door was already flung open.

The dark wood of the floorboards contrasted just enough with the decorations, furniture, and research equipment strewn across it, scattered and broken, to be visible in the low light. Cyclonis stepped over broken test tubes and crystal dust, which – if she had been allowed to finish those experiments – may have successfully concluded several projects ranging from months to years in development.

She followed a faint purple glow into the next room, and stopped just before her fireplace, above which a black, ornate staff – made by her own hand, from tempered Cyclonian steel – was hung. A violet crystal gleamed on the claw-like end of the staff, mounted as firmly into place as the staff was above the hearth. Cyclonis unclasped the staff and lifted it down.

She held the staff at arm's length with both hands and inspected it carefully. It was the best of the staves she had made – so excellent that she preferred to use her second best staff on a day-by-day basis just so that she could keep her best work pristine.

She pulled her desk back up to an upright position and placed her staff on it, casting a brighter, but still soft purple glow over the room. Next, she stepped over the broken glass on the floor to reach her closet, and then opened it up quickly to reveal roughly twenty identical sets of her imperial robes and underlying clothes. The mirror on the inside of the door had spider web cracks all over it, and Cyclonis stared blankly at the image of her face, shattered and mirrored in hundreds of directions, lit by an eerie purple glow. As if that weren't enough, she got an eyeful of her Storm Hawk outfit. She looked away with an expression of distaste.

"I mustn't get too caught up in the past," she noted after snatching a rather hefty pile of clothes. She was glancing from side to side, searching for a suitable container, when she turned away from the closet with narrow eyes.

She had definitely heard something.

She took a slow, creeping step toward her dresser and placed the armful of clothing on it, then picked her staff back off of the desk beside it.

Then she heard it again… it sounded like glass tinkling.

"I can hear you," Cyclonis stated flatly. "I wouldn't recommend trying to sneak in here."

A few seconds passed in silence, but eventually a dark figure crept into view from just beyond the doorway. A set of narrow red, glowing eyes stood out from the dark, featureless face of the hooded creature.

"Master Cyclonis. We knew you would return," the being hissed, looking down. After sinking to one knee, he glanced up again.

After Cyclonis absorbed the scene, she slowly lowered her staff. "Why, you're still here," she mused. "Are the other Nightcrawlers here, too?"

"Yes, master," the Nightcrawler commander said quietly. He rose from the floor with the aid of his hand on his knee – he seemed rather unsteady. "Our numbers have dwindled."

Cyclonis glanced away, biting her lip. "I see. Find a suitcase and put my clothes in it. After I finish what I came here to do, I will take you all with me." She made eye contact with the red-eyed creature again, this time with a raised eyebrow. "I hope we'll have the resources to do so."

The Nightcrawler bowed. "Thank you, Master Cyclonis." He paused just before resuming a straight, standing position. "Just know… that our numbers have dwindled," he repeated.

Cyclonis, who had just reached over for her clothes again, turned back. "In what sense?" she asked slowly, slightly more concerned than she had been the first time he had said the sentence.

"You will see," the commander replied grimly, as he shuffled off to find an appropriate container for his master's clothes.

She sighed, dreading what she would have to face – she could probably guess what it would be. Still, her Nightcrawler's departure from his usual emotionless discipline in favor of weary obedience was worrisome.

Cyclonis pushed the door closed, then walked back in the direction of the dresser, pulling her shirt off as she did. She tossed it off into a dark corner near her bed, and picked up one of her dark, purple-scarlet shirts. As she slipped into it, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was finally beginning to feel like her old self again. She glanced into the mirror just above the dresser, and noted that the piece of clothing still fit well with her matchstick figure.

She dug a pair of dark, slim pants out from near the bottom of the pile while trying to keep the rest of the pile intact – her obsessive compulsive tendencies were certainly still showing – and replaced her Storm Hawk-esque trousers with more appropriate attire.

She paused when she heard a few quick knocks at her door.

"Come in," Cyclonis called in her usual low, but authoritative tone.

"I bring a suitcase… for Master," her Nightcrawler stated simply, but with hesitation. His voice sounded more strained than his normal raspy tone should account for.

"Tell me," Cyclonis began, glancing sideways at him, "are you well?"

The Nightcrawler's shoulders sagged somewhat. "Perhaps not," he said cryptically. After a hesitant pause, he continued. "The chest-plate crystals Master brought from the far side of the world… they drained energy faster than we first knew. They behaved like… parasites."

"Then that was my error," Cyclonis murmured, glancing down at one of three cloaks she had sorted out from the rest of the pile. She picked one up, shook once, and then examined it thoughtfully. "Such powerful artifacts warranted testing… but time was short."

"Yes," he agreed. "After the final battle, they went dormant, but we did not remove them right away. They could only be removed by pulling them away from us with crystal power, so that is what we did when we were stranded here." He narrowed his red eyes. "We sacrificed our crystals to keep them from stealing more power from us. It is, as they say, a catch twenty-two."

"So… that is why you said your numbers had fallen," Cyclonis said grimly as she drew her cloak around herself. "That is disappointing. Very disappointing."

The Nightcrawler commander nodded.

"It will be alright," Cyclonis added. "I will see to it." She leaned over to open her dresser drawer, and after looking through its contents in the dim purple light, she withdrew an ornate, black box with a thin, pen-shaped object made of dark Cyclonian wood.

After pulling the top off of the box, she pressed the thin wooden stick into it, and twisted it around. She pulled it back out, and upon the stick, there was a thin layer of dark khol powder. She stared in the mirror as she held the stick against the bottom of her eye, closed her eyes, and slowly dragged the stick across and away from her eyelid. When she opened her eyes, she could see the fine outline of khol around her left eye. After repeating the process with the same eye to make it darker, she did the same thing to her right eye.

Pleased with her work, she turned to face her Nightcrawler.

"Tricky," he noted briefly, then extended the suitcase in Cyclonis' direction.

"It's not," Cyclonis remarked simply, accepting the container. She put the lid back on the makeup and tucked it into the outside pocket of the suitcase, then carefully arranged the pile of clothes inside the inner container. She flipped it closed, latched it up, and handed it right back to the Nightcrawler commander, who accepted it with a nod.

"If you are packing clothes, then you have somewhere to go," he deduced.

"Indeed," Cyclonis replied, pulling her hood over her head. After grabbing her staff, she held the glowing purple light before them, and nodded for him to move. "Let's go."

**(._.)**

Piper peeked into the room, at first visible only as two bright eyes in the darkness. After a quick glance around the shadowy outlines of furniture – as empty as she had expected – she tiptoed into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She reached for the lamp just above the nightstand, and then took another look around the room now that it was lit.

It was an ironic thing to do, Piper thought with a frown, giving Starling's room to Cyclonis… especially considering what ended up happening. Piper breathed an unhappy sigh and sat down on the bed. After noticing a shape on the nightstand in her peripheral vision, she swiveled her head just a bit and recognized Celi-… _Cyclonis_' forgotten book, she meant. Why did they have to give her a fake name? Picking one from Cyclonian history was a stupid move on Aerrow's account, anyway.

Piper flipped open the book to the page at which Cyclonis had dog-eared a corner. She almost finished, Piper thought with a pang of guilt. She mentally brushed away the sensation and skimmed through a few pages.

Oh, dear. I didn't… remember _this_, she thought with another emotional pang, but this time out of shock. She reread the passage, just to make sure she had understood it correctly. She had.

According to the last chapter, the Atmosian "rebels" had been defeated by the Cyclonian force, and their remaining military force was disbanded, and scattered across the world – the military remnants and the annexed Atmosian people probably weren't too happy about that, Piper considered, so that's probably what caused the back-and-forth wars between Cyclonia and Atmosia since then – however, the "noble" knight Celine had been injured in the final battle, and was brought back to the capital in rather bad condition.

Celine had made her debut in a time of uncertainty for Cyclonia, seemingly out of nowhere. She had answered the call for a hero of her nation, but it did not seem like her backstory was public. The Master of the time, Cyclonis XXIV, shadowy and reclusive as she was paranoid, had apparently appointed her the leader of Cyclonia's squadrons… but what the book had failed to mention up to that point, either for dramatic effect or to be reflective of the public knowledge of the situation at that time, was that Celine _was_ Cyclonis XXIV. It had all been an orchestration by a political ruler taking matters into her own hands.

Political ramifications aside, Celine, or Cyclonis, on her deathbed, had a few words to say to the next Cyclonis in line for the throne.

"_Weep not for me; weep for yourself. It is you who must inherit the responsibility, the suffering, and the duty that comes with my death. The burden of a thousand year old empire rests on your shoulders, and faltering under such a weight will be disastrous. Therefore, you must be strong, carry on the name of Cyclonis, and fulfill your obligation to your nation, even at the expense of your own life. No, no. Do not cry. I am merely following my own advice." _

Piper shuddered to imagine what would have happened if Cyclonis had read the last chapter before she was taken. She closed the back cover on the end of the book and placed it back on the nightstand with a frown. After crossing her arms and staring dejectedly at her shoes, she sighed again.

We should've just told Cyclonis who she was and then dealt with whatever happened, Piper acknowledged. It would've certainly been less nerve-wracking! And it would've been honest, too…

She looked back down at her shoes with a somber expression. She had enjoyed teaching Cyclonis about crystals… even taking into account the fact that she knew it all already – somewhere in her head, anyway – she had been a star pupil. Maybe they would've been able to figure out what those red crystals did, given enough time.

Wait.

Piper smacked herself mentally. She'd left the crystals in Cyclonis' skimmer to shield them from the Cyclonian's sensors… and then Starling had confiscated it. She would probably have a field day trying to get them back, and explaining why they were where they were…

She returned to her original thought of researching the crystals with Cyclonis. Even though she had been an enemy in the past, the thought of pursuing a mutual interest with another expert in the field was a very attractive idea.

"It would've been nice to be friends," Piper said softly.

She switched off the lamp and walked to the door.


	13. Luck

On the outskirts of her destroyed terra, Cyclonis followed her Nightcrawler down the sooty basalt street. By squinting, she was able to realize that the dark shapes near her skimmer had humanoid forms – they were certainly not rocks. They were the rest of the Nightcrawlers.

"Now you see," the commander remarked simply.

She did see. There were only seven Nightcrawlers gathered around her vehicle. As Cyclonis and the squad leader approached, they managed a weak acknowledgement by lifting their heads just long enough to sit reasonably straight up before resuming a tired, slouching position.

Cyclonis' lip twitched when she saw the three neatly-folded piles of Nightcrawler leather armor off to the side of the rudimentary encampment. She had barely made it in time to meet any survivors at all.

She glanced down at her staff, pulled the glowing purple stone free of the claw-like fixture, and handed it to the commander.

"Take this, and see to it that they are in good shape before we leave," Cyclonis ordered sternly, pressing the crystal into the commander's hands and accepting her suitcase in exchange. "Once they're back to full strength, have them get their rotorcycles and wait."

"Master, this your only weapon," the commander reminded her quietly, red eyes blinking uncertainly.

Cyclonis shook her head. "That does not matter. See that my orders are completed; I have some important business to take care of…"

After the commander bowed his head and walked toward his comrades, Cyclonis turned toward her skimmer and opened the storage compartment. She lifted out the crystals one by one, and as she added each crystal, they seemed to glow brighter. After tossing her suitcase in to replace the crystals, she took a step back.

"Hmm…" she intoned. "Odd."

After waiting a few seconds with nothing happening but the red crystals pulsing with a red glow on the ground, she leaned over a bit and shifted one with her hand. The effect was instantaneous.

The assortment of crystals' glow increased dramatically with blinding intensity. Cyclonis shielded her eyes with her sleeve and quickly drew back while the light began to recede into a familiar humanoid form. From behind her arm, she could see the ambient light slowly fade away.

"What…?" the former pile of crystals asked blearily, clutching his head. He appeared to lack the strength to sit upright, so he remained on the ground, eyes closed.

The very image of the fallen warrior, he rested on the stone, worn Cyclonian armor and battle-torn sword by his side completing the scene.

"The Dark Ace," Cyclonis said flatly. "Some say he is the greatest champion that the Cyclonian Empire has ever had. I am so impressed."

The aforementioned Dark Ace shifted his head to the side and forced his eyes open, blinking repeatedly. Once his glazed-over maroon eyes had found Cyclonis' emotionless violet stare, his mouth hung open. "Master Cyclonis," he managed weakly, before forcing himself to try to stand. He did not get very far before he had to fall back into sitting on the barren rock.

"While you are teaching yourself to stand, I will tell you what happened while you were…" she glanced to the side, searching for an appropriate term. "On vacation."

The Dark Ace nodded stupidly.

"I tried to do something dangerous, failed, and paid the price – so did you, when one pauses to consider it – and now, a few months after the fact, we are back here in the forsaken ruins of the once great capital of the Cyclonian Empire, Terra Cyclonia itself, lacking an army, lacking crystals, and lacking a nation," Cyclonis explained as she paced, speaking with her hands.

There was an unbearable stretch of silence while the Dark Ace thought.

"…What about the Talons?" the Dark Ace asked vaguely, adjusting his posture to a somewhat more respectful, attentive pose.

Cyclonis' footsteps slowed to a halt. "From what I have heard," she started, focusing her flinty purple eyes on her interrupting knight, "It seems as though we have an impostor on our hands."

The Dark Ace's eyes narrowed. After he picked up his blade to return it to its rightful place on his hip, he glanced back up at Cyclonis. "What do you mean by that, Master?"

"I mean that the Talons are still out there, somewhere. So is what is left of my Royal Navy. And they're following a Master Cyclonis… but, she's not me," she added, raising an eyebrow in her subject's direction. "But I think I know exactly who it is, and I know exactly what I am going to do about it."

The Dark Ace tried once more to rise to his feet, and with a grunt, he managed to do so successfully that time. "What do you have in mind?" he asked while brushing a few stray pebbles off of his pants.

Cyclonis rubbed her hands together with a small smile. "I'm so glad you asked, Dark Ace," she replied. "For I propose we fly into our fine feathered friend's midst – once we find out where the flotilla is, of course – and put an end to her game of dress-up…"

**(._.)**

A rather disheveled-looking young man stopped leaning against the brick wall he'd been rooted to and stroked his chin, deciding which of the passersby he should speak to.

"My apologies for the interruption, sir, but could you tell me where-…?" After being completely ignored and brushed past, he shoved his hands in his burgundy pants pockets dejectedly. "Well, isn't that a fine how-do-you-do…"

"_Monsieur_, I can help," a light voice called from behind him.

He turned carefully, expecting some sort of treachery. All he saw was a tall, fair-skinned young lady with a green turtleneck sweater and dark hair.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," he replied, lowering his eyes in an effort at polite humbleness.

"My name is Dove," she said, pausing to nod in the young man's direction. "And you?"

"Ensign Davis, Cyclonian Royal Navy," he said evenly, waiting for the inevitable harsh condemnation.

Dove nodded. "Yes, I see the uniform," she remarked. "I have seen them enough to, uh, recognize them even without the armor."

The ensign raised an eyebrow, stunned at both her familiarity with the language – unlike many others he had tried to speak with on Terra Gale, who had considerable more problems with him than just the language barrier – and her reasonable attitude.

"Well, uh," he began, straightening his cuffs nervously. "Could you tell me where the hospital is?"

"It is down there," Dove stated, pointing past the young man and the crowd of people travelling the street behind him. "When you see the library, it is on that street, just next door."

"I appreciate it," he said, and then he glanced up. "I'd tip my hat, but, well…" Gesturing to the top of his head, he offered a shrug. "Pawned it off a while ago."

"_Dove!_" someone yelled from the crowd, and the ensign was forced to take a step back when a rather short man with a vaguely comical pointy nose and beard leaped between them and eyed him with open hostility.

"_Papa_," Dove began irritably, and then dove into a rapid, incomprehensible – at least to the ensign – dialogue, to which the angry little man responded with a furious tirade that was equally incomprehensible.

The little man's words directed at Dove were interspersed with gestures in the young man's direction and words that, although he didn't know what they meant, he could tell they were meant to be insulting – even though the little man wasn't talking to him, he knew he was talking about him, especially when he caught the word "Cyclonian" a few times.

He decided to take his chances. "Thank you, I'll be heading to the hospital now," he managed before slipping away into the crowd, just after Dove had waved him off, ignoring her father's fury. He distinctly heard "Cyclonian scum!" yelled after him.

Cyclonians weren't welcome anywhere…

**(._.)**

Starling paused at the door to the councilors' chambers.

"You're clear to go in," a secretary said flatly from behind her desk.

Starling glanced to her side at the paper-shuffling young lady and shot her an unimpressed look. She pushed open the door and stepped into the Atmosian council's meeting room. While she had been there before, those instances had been few and far between; they also were usually during a dire situation.

The councilors from Atmosia's allied terras had all assembled around a long, rectangular wooden table in the center of the hall, which was framed with stone walls and floors in a rather drab gray shade. The only real color there was supplied by the burgundy rugs and the yellow light creeping in from the tall windows at the end of the room.

"Sky Knight Starling… of the Interceptors," the elderly man at the head of the table announced, more in an effort at settling down his fellow council members than in greeting. "We received notice of your failure in advance."

Starling winced. "I apologize. I should not have hinged the outcome of the mission on amnesia." She bowed her head once and glanced back up for a response.

"It is a most troubling situation," he replied, ignoring Starling's apology. Stroking his chin briefly, he glanced around at the other councilors. "My colleagues were discussing keeping you from taking part in this mission any further."

Starling blinked in surprise. "With all due respect, I still believe that I can recover Cyclonis."

There were some murmurs from the council.

"I can think of no reason to let one Sky Knight go after so dangerous a target when the Rex Guardians could easily deal with this," a gray-haired councilor muttered, adjusting his tie. He seemed to be the best-dressed one at the table, with a suit that bore no sign of being stitched together for repair.

"The Rex Guardians? Starling is a single Sky Knight capable of stealth and subterfuge, and you're pushing for the Rex Guardians to fill that role?" the second-best dressed member of the council asked. Starling recognized her as the councilwoman from Terra Neon. "I suppose you'd also suggest we hire a bull to raid an enemy fine china store."

"You're out of line!" the councilman from Terra Rex roared, rising from his seat.

The Neon representative rolled her eyes and grinned indifferently.

"Calm down, Harriot," the Atmosian councilor said dismissively.

The councilman sunk back down into his seat with a grimace.

"Honestly," the Neon councilwoman continued, making eye contact with Starling, "I agree that Master Cyclonis' escape is troubling, but I would like to add that she is alone, without resources, and the remnants of the Cyclonian armed forces are few, with a pretender to the throne in charge, no less."

The Terra Rex councilman slammed his fist onto the table. "I want to know where she got that information!" he shouted. A few other councilmen shrank back from his outburst.

"A Cyclonian Talon deserter went gambling," the Neon representative replied with a shrug. "Guess he didn't get lucky after all."

"This is obviously biased. It is clear – at least, to me – that this Interceptor is not psychologically fit to complete this mission. Her squadron was destroyed by associates of Cyclonia, and, well, she probably holds a grudge!" the Rex member of the council explained exasperatedly, shaking his hands as he did so.

"That is the most outrageous statement I've ever heard," the councilwoman stated gravely. "Not only is your reasoning simply ludicrous, but it would not matter if Starling held a grudge if her mission is to bring the woman allegedly responsible – and no, I do not believe Master Cyclonis was responsible for the attack on the Interceptors – to justice."

"Why don't you think so?"

The councilwoman from Terra Neon let a small smile show on her face. "The Cyclonians and the Raptors had nothing more than a pact of nonaggression at that time."

There were more murmurs around the councilors' table – Terra Neon had made Terra Rex look stupid yet again.

"As Cyclonia's remaining forces are not under Cyclonis' control, and they do not seem as they are an immediate threat, at least in this situation, due to questionable leadership and scarcity of resources, I propose that we allow Sky Knight Starling to continue her mission to capture Master Cyclonis," the Atmosian council member at the head of the table said. "All in favor?"

A majority of the councilors at the table raised their hands, much to the displeasure of the councilman from Terra Rex.

"Very well. I will record that the motion has passed." While scribbling onto a piece of paper with a quill pen, he spoke to Starling. "You may restock any necessary supplies that were lost during the escape incident. Solve this crisis at your own discretion."

"Thank you," Starling replied sincerely. "I won't let the council down." She turned and made for the exit.

"Good luck," the elderly head of the council called after her.

"She'll need it," the Terra Rex representative added.

Terra Neon's councilor turned her head. "You always have to have the last word, don't you?"

The Atmosian councilman sighed. "Not every meeting should involve you two squabbling. Now, let us put our faith in Starling. She is our best asset in terms of stealth and dedication." He gazed thoughtfully at the window. "Perhaps after she succeeds, we will finally have a sense of peace around here… both inside and outside of this room."


	14. The Direct Approach

**[ Author's Note:**

**I'm going to try to put some more time into this story and hopefully finish it up soon. This definitely took much longer than I expected... ]**

Cyclonis let her thoughts drift back over the events of the day.

She had awoken to the pleasant sight of her home terra in ruins after having a quality night's sleep on a rock. After waking up the Dark Ace, who was still recovering from the whole "being dead" thing, and shaking her energy-starved Nightcrawlers awake, she attained the enviable privilege of escorting her bruised and beaten entourage to the Wayside, a fuel station and important link in the region's trade network. More importantly, however – especially to Master Cyclonis – in the right hands, its long-range radio equipment would let her triangulate a signal from the Cyclonian fleet.

"Master Cyclonis," the disoriented palooka in the back of her skimmer called in a tired voice.

"What?" Cyclonis asked flatly. Her violet eyes were fixed forward, studying the gentle contours of the clouds and landmasses far in the distance in order to guide herself to her destination.

"I don't mean to pry, but…" he began quietly.

"If you have a question, then ask. I'll be the judge of whether it's appropriate or not," Cyclonis replied. "I dislike people who preface their questions."

The Dark Ace grunted. "I was wondering what happened between the last battle and… well, now."

Cyclonis glanced to her right, confirming that her Nightcrawlers were still in a V formation around her vehicle.

"Hmm. I already told you what we need to do, but I suppose an explanation would do well to satisfy your curiosity…" Cyclonis paused to glance to her left. "After the battle took a turn for the worst, I fled to the Far Side. I tried to imbue myself with enough crystal power to fight off the Storm Hawks, and managed to freeze myself in a manner similar to your… condition. Unlike you, however, I didn't explode."

"I exploded?" the Dark Ace asked unhappily.

Cyclonis let out a rare chuckle. "In any case, I came back in time to step out of the same portal I'd gone into the Far Side with… but I ended up stranded on a spire in Terra Deep." She paused, taking in a deep breath. "I suppose at that time, the Cyclonian Navy was split up into a few groups, one of which decided to be big goddamn heroes and save me from the pirates when they picked up the Far Side energy signature that doubtlessly sprung up from Terra Deep…"

"I thought you said an imposter took over," came the reply.

"The fractured components of the Cyclonian Navy may not have all been working together… or perhaps, they may have just been sent to _capture_ me rather than rescue me. Either way, friendly forces soon arrived to pick up my half-conscious body, and they were immediately shot out of the sky by Murk Raiders, who decided to bring me aboard after looting their ship."

"How did you get away?" the Dark Ace asked, suddenly attentive.

"They didn't know who I was. Without my cloak, I didn't have any identifiable markings. The only thing they probably noticed was that my clothes were well made, and therefore expensive, but I'm not so sure about that, considering I woke up on their ship without even a clue what my name was."

"Amnesia?"

"Yes…" Cyclonis opened her mouth to say more, but the breath caught in her throat. Her lips closed to form a stern line, and she decided to wait for the Dark Ace to say something else. To his credit, he didn't.

After a time, Cyclonis blinked in recognition at the landmass in the distance. "There's our destination, just over that cloud bank." She raised her voice and directed it at the Nightcrawler commander, who was waiting near her right. "While we're operating the radio, try to see if you can sneak in the back and steal a crate of fuel crystals!"

The head Nightcrawler nodded, and abruptly broke off of the formation. The rest of the Nightcrawlers trailed after him like a small group of locusts behind a layer of clouds, leaving Cyclonis and the Dark Ace to go in the front alone.

"When we land, leave your helmet and chest plate in the skimmer," Cyclonis ordered. "We need to keep as low of a profile as possible."

**(._.)**

Once she was off of Terra Atmosia, Starling turned the tuning knob on her Slip-Wing's radio until it landed on the correct frequency.

"Hello, Storm Hawks?" she asked. "Is anyone there?"

There was a pause. If they had heard her and were monitoring their usual frequency, it would be a moment before one of them manned the radio. She banked to the right by a few degrees, and then began drifting lazily past a bird that wasn't quite fast enough to keep up.

"_Starling?_" a familiar voice asked. "_Is that you?_"

"Piper," Starling acknowledged. "Yes, it's me."

"_Great, I wanted to talk to you, actually!_" Piper began quickly. "_What happened to, uh… Cyclonis? She _is_ going to have a trial, right?_"

"Piper…"

"_I mean, I'm not saying she's completely harmless, but if she doesn't remember anything… then she's _mostly_ harmless, right?_"

"Piper, she regained her memory on the way back, escaped, and now she's… somewhere," Starling said flatly. "I actually called to ask if she had contacted you, but… apparently that's not the case. I don't understand why you have this fixation on helping her. I mean, I was expecting help. After all, the council wants me to bring her in."

There was a lengthy silence.

"_I see,_" Piper replied quietly. "_But, no, she hasn't called._"

Starling tapped her fingers against the radio, feeling the blood boil in her head somewhat. The scale in her head was teetering back and forth – she wanted to abandon the effort and cut off the conversation, but she also wanted to give Piper a piece of her mind.

The "piece of her mind" option won out.

"You know, I don't understand you at all," Starling began angrily. "You're a Storm Hawk. You're a hero. You and everyone in your squadron fought against the worst aspects of humanity Cyclonia had to offer, and for what? To keep the empress? I certainly hope it wasn't meant to be a trophy."

"'_It'_?" Piper asked simply.

Starling's eye twitched. "_Her_, then. It doesn't matter." She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. You should have turned her in… but you just played the, 'Oh, she's harmless; I'm not going to do anything' card until I had to drag her out of there myself. You are _lucky_ I found her when I did and alerted the council; otherwise you'd be getting your head bashed in right now. You should have turned her over as soon as you recovered her, and not a moment after that. I don't understand what your motivation was – did you think she could be some kind of lap dog to have around the ship?"

Starling paused for a moment. The rest of her furious tirade was caught in her throat.

"You don't… you don't _fancy _her, do you?" she asked quietly.

"_No!_" Piper said rather loudly from miles and miles away. "_And while you're throwing accusations around, look at it from my perspective! I saw Cyclonis for who she was. This might sound absolutely insane_,_ but she wasn't a bad person!"_

Starling sighed, and massaged the bridge of her nose. Her head was killing her.

"You're really telling me that Master Cyclonis isn't a bad person," she muttered. "Yes, it sounds insane. Luckily, as of now, it's out of your hands. It's clear that you've fallen prey to her indoctrination one way or another, so I'll take care of this myself. Keep the news of her escape quiet; the council doesn't want her to be common knowledge, since that would incite a panic."

"_Starling, I'm not saying she isn't dangerous right now, but-…"_

Starling changed the frequency back to the emergency Atmosian council frequency, which she would use to radio in for a transport once she had the raven-haired psychopath in tow. She hoped it wouldn't be too long before then…

**(._.)**

"So we're taking the direct approach, Master?"

"Yes."

There was a brief chime as the door collided with a set of bells installed just above the doorframe. Cyclonis peered around from under her hood, keeping an eye out for any possible threats. The two old men playing checkers were the only customers inside the diner, and the only employees on duty seemed to be a cashier at the register and a cook, judging by the light sounds of cookware coming from past the door to the kitchen. Her survey of the room complete, Cyclonis looked down at the white and black checkerboard-style tiles on the floor.

"Welcome to the Wayside," the cashier greeted tiredly. "We've got a breakfast special 'til ten, or you can buy some fuel and redeem the receipt with the attendant…" He didn't even bother to look up once through his spiel; he was too busy drying empty coffee cups.

Cyclonis took a step toward the counter. "I would like to use your radio."

The cashier glanced up and raised an eyebrow. He was middle-aged with a brown mustache and glasses, with curious eyes behind them. "Why's that?"

"Well, our radio stopped working yesterday and we really need to radio in to our cargo ship to ask our crew where to deliver the order," Cyclonis explained without hesitation.

The Dark Ace could've sworn she made it up on the spot.

"Order?" the cashier asked, adding another dry coffee cup to the row of cups he'd assembled. He picked up another one out of the drying rack.

"Why, yes, we're escorting a small crystal shipment. So, how about letting us use your radio?"

"Well, I don't know, little lady. Are you paying customers?" he asked with a frown.

Cyclonis narrowed her eyes, but the Dark Ace stepped in with a few coins in his hand.

"I'll take that breakfast special. I'm starving," he said simply, and pressed the coins onto the counter.

"Breakfast special coming right up," the cashier said, swiping away the coins. He gave the Dark Ace a receipt in return. "One breakfast special!" he yelled behind him. Once the chef yelled something incomprehensible back, he turned back around. "Radio's through that back door."

Cyclonis wordlessly strolled off toward the back of the diner, pulled open the door, stepped through, and glanced around. She sealed the door behind her and took a step toward the radio placed on a table in the corner with a chair, and grinned. With the radio tower in place behind the sign outside, she would be able to pick up the fleet's signal.

Taking her seat at the radio console, she adjusted the dial to the Cyclonian Navy general communications frequency, and snatched a pen and piece of paper from a stack on the side of the table. She placed the headset attached to the radio onto her head.

It was static at first, but then there was a short period of distorted speech, but she couldn't quite make out what was being said. After consulting the signal strength on the analog meter, she drew a point on the paper with a set of numbers beside it, and then adjusted the radio to the Atmosian general distress frequency.

"Hello, this is the Wayside. We have a cargo ship in trouble, and we'd like to know whether another station could assist us," Cyclonis said evenly.

"_We hear you, Wayside. This is Terra Neon. How can we assist?_" a radio operator asked.

After comparing her sheet to the map of the Atmos on the wall, and drawing in a grid with another small point over Terra Neon's rough location, Cyclonis gave him the Cyclonian frequency. "Please tune yourself to that frequency, and tell me the strength of the signal."

After a moment of waiting, the operator returned. "_Reading about forty-two percent signal reliability. I can't tell what they're saying."_

"Thank you for your cooperation," Cyclonis said, and abruptly switched off the radio.

She drew a line connecting the two points and read over the numbers.

"Hmm… forty-two… law of sines…" she mumbled slowly while scribbling away on the paper.

She dropped her pen with a smirk once finished. She lifted the paper up and admired her handiwork – where the two lines from each station intercepted, there was a third dot in the northwest.

"Excellent," she mused.


	15. Closer

The Dark Ace picked up a knife with a deadly sharp, serrated blade, and carefully cut off a small portion of his cheese omelet. He chewed on it gingerly, uncertain as to whether or not it would be too hot.

It was the most perfect omelet he had ever tasted.

He glanced around his booth and eyed a newspaper sitting on the opposite seat, so he leaned over and picked it up. As he was satisfied with the quality of his omelet, toast, and bacon, he flipped open the newspaper, folded it back so that he could read the second page, and chewed on his toast while reading about the cheese of Terra Gale.

The set of bells above the door rang, and the Dark Ace peeked around the side of his newspaper just in time to see three Rex Guardians stroll in. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, but he hid himself behind his newspaper before the Sky Knight and his partial squadron could get a look around the diner.

"Welcome to the Wayside," the cashier droned. "Would you like the breakfast special, or maybe prepay for some fuel?"

"While we are here, I suppose a small crate of fuel crystals would be in order," Harrier, the Sky Knight of the squadron said.

The Dark Ace had him pegged as one of the most obnoxious, arrogant people he'd had to deal with, even if it had just been in order to stab him in the back.

There was a clinking of change being dropped onto the counter, and the Dark Ace peered to see the cashier hand Harrier a receipt.

"Redeem this with the attendant," the cashier recited. "Have a nice day."

"Well, actually," Harrier continued while carefully folding the paper. "We came here because of a report of people dressed in all black making off with a crate from a cargo ship…"

The Dark Ace stifled a chuckle. The Nightcrawlers had succeeded in their half of the mission.

"Would you happen to know anything about that?" Harrier asked.

"I just run the register," the cashier replied indifferently.

Harrier stuffed the receipt in his pocket. "I see. Well, do not hesitate to alert us if you witness anything suspicious. We will be heading back to Terra Rex in about an hour."

The Dark Ace glanced over to the door in the back when he heard the knob turn. For the second time that day, his eyes were just about bulging.

Cyclonis stepped out of the back room with her practiced, perfectly-postured walk, and raised an eyebrow when she realized she'd strolled into the midst of the Rex Guardians.

"I say, Harrier," one of the cookie-cutter blonde males of the squadron began stiffly, "Isn't that Master Cyclonis?"

"Master Cyclonis?!" Harrier exclaimed, and spun around to face the monarch. With rising horror, he decided to add, "B-but… she's dead!"

The Dark Ace would never forget what happened next.

Cyclonis' standard expressionless scowl immediately flipped into a wide, toothy smile.

"Oh, wow, you're the Rex Guardians!" she said excitedly, bright eyes flashing between the three squadron members, then resting on Harrier.

He looked absolutely dumbfounded, as did his two gold-armor-wearing squad mates.

"Hey, you're Harrier!" she continued with reverence in her voice. "You're, like, the leader of the Rex Guardians! Do you like my costume?"

"C-costume?" Harrier repeated blankly. "_Oh_. Hm. Yes. Uncanny."

She withdrew a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "I'm your biggest fan. Can you sign this for me?"

Harrier's glazed-over eyes seemed to brighten. "A fan," he repeated uncertainly. After seeing Cyclonis' hyperactive nod, he seemed to straighten up somewhat. "Very well. Anything for a fan," he said with confidence.

After Harrier plucked a pen off of the counter, signed his name with a flourish, and handed it back to Cyclonis, she seemed to tremble with excitement.

"Thank you so much!" she said, and then carefully returned the paper to her pocket.

"Right. Stay safe, little girl," he said with a wave. "And maybe choose a different person to dress up as… Come on, squad; let's go investigate that cargo ship."

The Rex Guardians departed, and Cyclonis meandered up to the Dark Ace's table with a blank expression.

"I can't believe you just did that," the Dark Ace said slowly, rather stunned. "Or that it worked."

"I was caught off guard," Cyclonis said dismissively as she sat on the booth opposite the Dark Ace and stole one of his slices of toast. "I have the fleet's coordinates."

"That's good," the Dark Ace replied. "Was it on the other side of the paper you just had that idiot sign?"

"The very same," Cyclonis affirmed.

He chuckled. "That's _very_ good."

Cyclonis dropped the last bite of toast in her mouth, pulled the paper back out and unfolded it, and then placed it in the center of the table with the side featuring the diagram facing up. She pointed a pale finger at the dot in the northwest of the grid.

"There's the fleet. It's to the northwest of here, and we can probably make it there by sunset," Cyclonis explained. "Right now, they're at a small mining terra to the north of Terra Gale."

The Dark Ace nodded. "What makes you think they'll stay put?"

"They're probably searching the mine for fuel crystals. After all, it isn't likely they could just pull up to a fuel station and buy some," Cyclonis reasoned. "They're not going to leave for a while. It will take some time to scrounge up enough crystals from a starved mine." She picked a piece of bacon off of the Dark Ace's plate and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"Alright. I guess we should head off," the Dark Ace replied, having just finished off his omelet.

"Indeed," Cyclonis replied.

**(._.)**

"_Atmosia radio control to Sky Knight Starling,_" an Atmosian radio operator called over Starling's radio.

"Starling, here," she replied immediately. "What's the matter?"

"_We've received a report of a theft of fuel crystals at the Wayside, along with a strange call from a radio operator there regarding a cargo ship in distress. We do not have any more details, but it's suspicious enough to be looked into._"

"Will do," Starling replied. "I'm in the area, so I'll see if Cyclonis is involved."

Starling changed her course slightly from her original destination of Terra Glockenchime – she figured that Cyclonis would have much to gain from sabotaging it, even if that would be a repeat of a previous plan. However, she was beginning to develop suspicions about her new destination.

_Even evil empresses need to buy fuel every now and then_, Starling thought to herself as the outline of the Wayside appeared on the horizon. She ran a hand over the speed and altitude meters of her Slip-Wing – having it recovered from the Wastelands had not been a very enjoyable experience, but at least it hadn't been completely destroyed.

Starling pulled back on the throttle as she approached the small terra, and came in for a smooth landing on a grassy clearing just a few feet away from a vacant cargo ship stop. Just as she was about to switch off the engine, she stared blankly as Master Cyclonis and the Dark Ace strolled rather nonchalantly up to her skimmer and hopped on.

_The Dark Ace? But… he was supposed to be dead, too…_ "Hey! Stop right there!" Starling shouted. She put the throttle on about fifty percent, turned the bars sharply to the right with her left hand, and withdrew her nunchucks with her right.

Cyclonis and the Dark Ace both glanced over and produced similar startled expressions, and surprised Starling by immediately streaking down the landing area at high speed. She knew that Cyclonis' skimmer was a quality piece of machinery, but, then again, so was hers.

Starling brought her throttle up as Cyclonis' skimmer lifted off, and followed her up through her ascent. As Starling had more momentum to begin with, she spun her nunchucks around in a threatening circle and banked to Cyclonis' left. Disappointingly – to Starling, anyway – she wasn't quite in range for a good strike, and Cyclonis had begun lengthening the gap between them.

Starling ended up pushing the throttle near to maximum power. She attached her nunchucks to her belt and flipped open the handlebar guard to her skimmers' integrated weapons, then placed her thumb gently on top of the button. Her skimmer only had two light crystal beams built in – they weren't very strong, but they were enough to tear up or disable any moderately-armored skimmer under sustained fire.

She carefully banked back and forth, and changed her elevation in an attempt at getting a good bead on Cyclonis' skimmer. Abruptly, Cyclonis pulled up sharply, and Starling followed her through the maneuver a little late. She followed her carefully, still trying to compensate for Cyclonis' evasive maneuvers in an attempt at lining up a shot, but the upward climb was complicating the aiming process further. Starling smirked when she realized that her skimmer, which was lighter and had a strong engine, would likely be able to climb further up without stalling, and therefore Cyclonis would have to break off of the climb before she had to.

Starling frowned once she considered that if she knew that, then Cyclonis probably knew that, too… and that meant there was another reason for pulling up so steeply, which would slow both of them down but not let Cyclonis get an advantage over here in and of itself.

When Starling heard a sound almost like a set of roaring Cyclonian Heli-blades hurtling toward her from behind, she glanced back in time to see a group of Nightcrawlers on pitch-black rotorcycles flying several dozen feet below them.

When Cyclonis dipped down sharply, Starling immediately understood her ruse. Cyclonis had gone into a climb to bleed off both of their speeds so that her Nightcrawlers could catch up in time to head her off. It was simple, but cruel, especially when Starling had expected Cyclonis to be alone.

Starling followed her into the dive, still trying to get a shot before she would be forced to retreat – even just slowing them down with slight damage would be a victory. That was about when Starling was almost shaken off of her skimmer by a peppering of blasts that impacted her right wing. She furiously looked to her right – one of the Nightcrawlers had deliberately followed her vehicle and taken the shots, and they had the advantage of a higher degree of aiming than she did, since their weapons were wrist-mounted, albeit less powerful.

Starling acknowledged that to pursue Cyclonis further would mean she would be shot down. She banked hard to the left and turned around, dodging red and purple crystal energy. While her Slip-Wing, freshly fished out of the Wastelands, was smoking from the damage she had incurred, she hadn't managed to land a scratch on Cyclonis' skimmer. It was an infuriating defeat.

**(._.)**

"I guess that's why they were called the 'Interceptors'," the Dark Ace remarked dryly.

Perhaps it was because of some effect caused by the frenzied chase, but Cyclonis felt an urge to grin at the Dark Ace's comment. Once the afterglow of the adrenaline rush had dissipated, and Cyclonis had double-checked – then triple-checked – that their course was correct, she frowned and tapped her fingers uncomfortably against the handlebars.

"Hey," she said simply.

The Dark Ace hesitated, perhaps because of her uncharacteristic greeting. "Yes?"

"Tell me," Cyclonis began slowly, as if deciding whether she wanted to go through with her question, even in the process of saying it. "…What was it like being a Storm Hawk?"

"That's a good question," he replied dimly. "Sometimes I ask myself that."

He took a deep breath.

"Well, I guess it was fun. You know, going around, doing great things, seeing great things – being heroes," he explained evenly. "Then again, a lot of people don't realize that their heroes aren't necessarily perfect people underneath their sparkling images."

Cyclonis chuckled. "Are you talking about yourself?"

"No, I'm talking about Lightning Strike," he corrected immediately. "Everyone thought he was the hero that all of the Atmos needed – some kind of messiah of unity and goodwill. Sure, he might have had good intentions, but I saw what kind of man he was when it came right down to it."

The V formation with Cyclonis taking point and the Nightcrawlers acting as wingmen banked slightly to the left to avoid a small group of birds flying along.

"How do you mean that?" Cyclonis asked after a moment.

The Dark Ace paused. "When I killed him in the final battle, it wasn't because I had decided to betray Atmosia. It wasn't even because I was jealous of him, which is contrary to what a lot of people assume," he added grimly. "He was a nut. He kept saying that the only way to stop Cyclonia once and for all was to exterminate the royal family – _all_ of the royal family."

"Hold on a moment – you said you stopped him and swore fealty to Cyclonia because you were ancestrally Cyclonian, and felt that it was your obligation to put an end to a massive threat to the continuity of our empire," Cyclonis said sternly. "Are you saying that's a lie?"

"No, I'm Cyclonian, but I'd been in an orphanage before I joined up with the Storm Hawks. And, that second part – well, I guess that's the official story," he admitted gingerly. "But when he killed an old woman, and then insisted that we had to execute a bright-eyed little girl for everlasting peace and prosperity, and I was the only Storm Hawk that saw something wrong with that, I knew that somewhere along the line, the good guys had decided that it was okay to commit atrocities if they had a good reason."

Cyclonis mulled that over for a moment. "You defected because of me?"

"It wasn't like I could explain to anybody why I stabbed their hero in the back. I made my decision, and it was the right one," he explained. "Everybody's a hypocrite, and everybody's capable of true evil. Heroes just make people feel good about it."

"So I take it the ordeal crushed your idealism?" Cyclonis ventured.

"Definitely," the Dark Ace replied.

Cyclonis nodded. "Thank you for taking the time to explain."

"Don't mention it. But," the Dark Ace continued, "what prompted the, uh, question?"

Cyclonis felt a knot in her chest. "I thought I could be a Storm Hawk, too."

The statement flew right over the Dark Ace's head. "What?"

"Maybe I'll tell you about it later," Cyclonis suggested. "For now, we're beginning to get close to the fleet's last known location."


	16. Reclamation

Aerrow scrambled up to the radio receiver and held down the transmitter button, determined to put an end to the communicator's incessant beeping.

"Aerrow here," he greeted.

"_Aerrow. Good,_" was the brisk reply. "_It's Starling. I may need your help._"

"Sure, what's up?" he asked, pulling a chair out from under the table on which the radio was placed.

"_Cyclonis evaded me. The Dark Ace is somehow alive, and she has a squad of Nightcrawlers protecting her,_" Starling explained. "_What's worse – she's on the move. I was going to ask your team for help before, but… I may have lost my patience with Piper._"

Aerrow frowned. If Cyclonis was on the move, then that meant she had a plan, a concept which was terrifying even without knowing the details… and then there was the Dark Ace. It didn't help that Piper thought Cyclonis had been treated unfairly to begin with, nor did it help that Starling and she had gotten into an argument – although it certainly explained why she had been lagging around the ship with a frown on her face.

"Starling, I know she wants Cyclonis in jail as much as anybody. We'll help any way we can," he offered. "Just let us know once you find out what she's up to, and we'll do whatever we can."

"_I appreciate that, Aerrow._"

She was silent for a moment.

"_Try to come over to the Wayside – by the time you get here, my repairs will be done, but if I find out what Cyclonis is doing, it will be better if you're in the area. There's not much in the direction she was going._" She paused for a moment, and Aerrow heard the shuffling of papers – likely maps – reflected in tinny radio sound quality. "_Since the only thing close that way is a depleted mine, she will likely have to come back this way for whatever she's up to. It's a good bet, anyway._"

"Sure, we'll head over there now. Good luck," Aerrow replied.

He stood up and pushed the chair back under the table. With a newly-formed frown, he considered what Starling had said. Cyclonis wouldn't just make a stop at some old mining terra for no reason, especially with Starling hot on her heels. Aerrow was a good leader, with charisma and solid tactics, but whenever he came up against Cyclonis, it always felt like playing chess against a grandmaster without actually knowing how to play the game.

Piper was the strategist in the team. Aerrow could come up with the best way to execute each step in a mission itinerary, but he still needed her strategic masterminding to come up with that plan at all. He knew Piper was a loyal member of the team, but she _did_ put them all in danger by convincing them to withhold Cyclonis...

He shook his head. Maybe he was just overthinking things.

**(._.)**

"We're close. We should be able to see them soon," Cyclonis called.

Her voice was just a bit louder than usual due to the rippling winds. The sky was overcast, and the weather was beginning to take a turn. If it started storming, visibility would be so dismal that they might have trouble locating the fleet, despite the size of the destroyers it was comprised of.

"I can barely see anything right now," the Dark Ace complained.

She heard a quiet ripple of cloth in the wind to her left, and glanced at one of her Nightcrawlers gliding smoothly along on his rotorcycle, along with the rest in the formation.

"Squint, then," she replied, voice laced with sarcasm.

The Dark Ace guffawed. "You know, I was wondering if you could explain what you said before. About thinking you could be a Storm Hawk."

"I don't see how that's important right now," Cyclonis stated coolly.

"Well, we're charging into what might very well be a trap with an imposter of you calling the shots, and we're armed with just enough cheap crystals to power our vehicles and _barely _power our weapons, so I just think it's important to have everyone on the same page, master," the Dark Ace replied in his I-mean-no-offense, hail-to-the-queen tone.

Cyclonis tightened her grip around the handlebars and banked casually to the right to compensate for a westerly wind that had veered them a few degrees off course according to her compass. She didn't really want to explain what else had happened prior to resurrecting him. Who would? Fate had decided to make her an innocent girl with no memory of her past or her duty, and then in her weakest moment parade her in front of her enemies, only to thrust her into the arms of Starling, harbinger of justice, and then immediately rip away all of the idealism that had begun to bloom in her little head.

Naturally, she was a little bitter.

"The Storm Hawks took me in after part of the Cyclonian Navy failed to get me," she said coldly.

_The Nightcrawlers are going to listen in,_ Cyclonis thought glumly. She shook her head. They deserved to know as much as the Dark Ace did. But why did she still feel so ashamed about the whole ordeal?

"They were kind. Gave me a change of clothes. Offered me pancakes," Cyclonis spat. "And _Piper_… she taught me about crystals. Isn't that just the most ironic thing you've ever heard? So we went traipsing along, and while I was completely ignorant of my identity, I won that race that you tried to destroy last year, read a book about Cyclonia without even knowing I was Cyclonian, and eventually got kidnapped by the purple-haired pest Starling and hauled off to a trial. At least I escaped before I gave her the satisfaction of putting me away."

"You sound angry," the Dark Ace murmured.

Cyclonis grimaced. "I'm allowed to be angry. The Storm Hawks turned me from a monarch on a mission to a bright-eyed innocent with all the comprehension of a houseplant."

"Would you go back?" the Dark Ace asked, avoiding her rant. "If you could?"

Cyclonis breathed deeply. She didn't really know what to say to the Dark Ace's question.

"Because I would," the Dark Ace continued before she could reply. "I know I would."

"You would, but you know you can't," Cyclonis stated after a moment. "That was innocence. Once people wise up to the bleak state of the world, it becomes rather easy to discard their ideals in favor of a more realistic approach to problems… the dream is over. The only real way to save the world is to bring order to it."

"Then we're in the same boat by the sound of it. That's why I joined you," the Dark Ace commented.

Cyclonis glanced from side to side and noticed that her Nightcrawlers were all staring straight at her. Were those expressions of approval?

"I know what I have to do. What we have to do," Cyclonis added. "We have to unite Cyclonia before our empire is lost to history, and then the next steps in my plan will become apparent – and it seems we won't have to go far, because the flotilla is right there."

They sailed through the clouds just far enough to begin interpreting the outlines of airships in the distance. As they continued, the fog seemed to lessen, and it was becoming apparent that the fleets were in a clear patch of sky.

They broke through the last thick layer of mist, and stared.

The weary ships of the first, second, fourth, and fifth fleets of the Cyclonian Navy – or what remained of them – shone brightly in the bright blue skies and clear noon sun. They were idling around the abandoned mining terra, just as expected, with Talon patrols flying in normal formations around the perimeter and troops on the ground scrounging around at the dig site for enough fuel to keep the navy and air force going.

Cyclonis' expression slipped into an involuntary frown. She'd never noticed how worn the ships had looked in the dim red of her home terra.

"_Unknown squadron, identify yourselves immediately or be shot down!_" a Cyclonian air traffic controller – much friendlier than the Atmosian variety – barked over the radio.

"I am Master Cyclonis," Cyclonis said stiffly. "You will allow me and my squadron to land within _my_ flagship."

"_Huh?_"

Cyclonis waited a few seconds for a more eloquent query.

"_Uh… maintain your speed. You will be escorted into the capital ship._"

"Well, that went better than I thought it would," the Dark Ace noted.

Cyclonis was about to respond when a contingent of Talons broke off from one of the patrol groups in the distance and sailed through the air in a wide curve. She turned her head to the side and, along with the Dark Ace, watched them swing back around and begin catching up with their Nightcrawler squadron. They split into two groups: one ahead of Cyclonis' formation, and one behind.

The Dark Ace grunted. "At least we're headed to the flagship. Maybe we'll get this mess straightened out."

"That's the plan," Cyclonis replied.

"If I didn't know better, I would think you're winging it," he ventured in a murmur.

She immediately shot back with, "Well, I suppose it's good that you _do _know better."

"Well, I don't know," the Dark Ace continued. "I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of 'No, Dark Ace, don't worry about the girl, her crystal powers will destroy her before she can use them,' and I think that eventually led to me being blown up."

Cyclonis clenched her jaw. "If that weren't such a fair point, I'd have thrown you off of this vehicle for uttering it," she hissed.

The Dark Ace cleared his throat. "That was a _joke,_ Master."

"I see."

Cyclonis followed the leader of the Talon formation in a gradual bank toward the landing bay of the flagship of the Cyclonian First Fleet. With a raised eyebrow, she caught Ravess' former vessel, the flagship of the Second, in the corner of her eye, trailing behind the only other airship left from the same fleet. Judging by the scorch marks, it had sustained a heated battle or two since the fall of Cyclonia.

Her Nightcrawlers' rotorcycles began winding down audibly as they approached the bay doors. Cyclonis followed suit when the Talons in front of her disengaged from flight mode, and landed softly as the rest of the pilots all brought their crafts in for smooth landings in the spacious landing bay.

The smooth burgundy-toned bulkheads fit in well with the red-to-purple color palette that the ship was composed of. As she dismounted her ride, the corner of her mouth drew up in an appreciative grin at the sound of a boot on metal. She was home.

"Uh, Master Cyclonis, I have to take you to… Master Cyclonis," the Talon who had been leading the squadron said uncertainly from her left. "The, um… the Nightcrawlers can wait here. If that's okay."

Cyclonis turned slowly and stared up at the dark haired, goggled Talon. Despite being almost a foot shorter than the aviator, Cyclonis' dark aura had the unpleasant effect of making one feel horribly, horribly small.

"Oh? So she's calling herself Master Cyclonis?" Cyclonis asked softly, flinty purple eyes oddly intense under her drawn hood.

The Talon nodded slowly with a quiet whimper.

Cyclonis began pacing slowly. "So she calls herself Master Cyclonis, orders around the combined Cyclonian armed forces, wears the royal robes, goes to-and-fro wasting materials, wasting resources, wasting _time… _" Her rant tapered off in cold silence. "And she does it all…" She turned and gave the Talon a blank, wide-eyed stare, and with a voice barely above a whisper, she uttered, _"On… my… ship_?"

As a rule of thumb when working for the Cyclonian Empire, Cyclonis (unlike many other Cyclonian officials) did not generally become louder when angry, or usually ever start shouting. The pinnacle of Cyclonis' anger could only be reached when her speech was barely audible. And since that moment had arrived, the poor Talon looked like his heart had stopped.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm…" He paused, scrambling for something to say. Rather than wait to be executed on the spot, he immediately spied the nearest exit and bolted without another word.

"That was effective," the Dark Ace chimed in from beside her.

Cyclonis turned around and faced the group of the Talons who had escorted her in, now all standing in the bay next to their Switchblades. They were all glancing nervously between Cyclonis and her squadron of Nightcrawlers, who were busying themselves with securing their rotorcycles. That is, all except for the Talon closest to her, whose knees were shaking rather violently.

"Take me to the _pretender_," Cyclonis hissed.

"Yes, ma'am!" he said immediately, bowing awkwardly as he shuffled to the door.

Cyclonis and the Dark Ace followed the Talon closely down the corridor to the bridge with two additional Cyclonian soldiers behind them, energy cane weapons at the ready. As the door in front of them parted with a quiet swish, Cyclonis clenched her fist. A thin, tall figure dressed in the traditional royal robes of the Cyclonian monarchy had her back turned to her, and she was staring out of the front window.

"Who are these intruders?" she asked sternly, before turning around. Her narrow, golden eyes suddenly went wide as she took in the scene. Even her proud posture slipped somewhat.

"So you understand your mistake, I take it," Cyclonis began menacingly.

As the rightful Master of Cyclonia took a few steps toward her imitator, the Talons flanking the false monarch raised their canes reflexively.

"Truly?" Cyclonis asked softly. "You dare raise your weapon against your rightful ruler? And in favor of Ravess, an _exile_?"

Ravess lowered her hood. "I've been calling the shots since you decided to disappear in the middle of the war." She regarded Cyclonis with a firm glare, but a twitch in the corner of her mouth betrayed her nervousness.

"Those robes are heavier than they look, Ravess," Cyclonis muttered bitterly. As she took another step toward Ravess, she focused her eyes on the Talon to the left, and then to the right.

"You exiled or killed the highest-ranking Cyclonian military officials – at least that's what I heard," Ravess began, nodding once at the Dark Ace. "You relied on unproven tech from who-knows-where, as well as dark, creepy, hissing monsters you probably made in your basement to win a war, and then you ran."

Ravess shook her head.

"Why should you be Master Cyclonis?" she asked flatly.

Cyclonis paused for a moment. "Because I can do this," she said simply, withdrawing a single purple crystal from her pocket.

Ravess turned a shade paler and stepped back a few inches. She even threw her hands out in front of her for good measure. The Talons aimed at Cyclonis with their canes.

Cyclonis' hood parted with a disturbing, almost organic sound, revealing her expressionless visage. She spread her arms wide.

"I'm right here. If you want to kill your empress, then do it."

The Talons looked from Cyclonis to each other. After a few seconds of uncertainty, they hesitantly turned to face Ravess, canes still aimed threateningly.

"What?" Ravess asked disbelievingly. "Why are you aiming at me? Her, _her_, not _me!_"

"Your heart is in the right place, Ravess," Cyclonis said evenly as she returned her crystal to her pocket. "That's the only reason it's going to stay inside of you. However, I'm willing to offer you your life, and your old position in return for you abandoning this treason… and finding a change of clothes."

"My…" Ravess murmured to herself. "Why? You're offering me my command back?"

"You've made a mess of things, but you're a leader," Cyclonis affirmed. "The monarchy is mine, and mine alone, but I would like you to have a chance to prove yourself again. In exchange, I would like you to trust me to do what is best for the Cyclonian Empire and my people. However, if you would like to commit treason against Cyclonia – against _me_ – in the future, you would do well to remember that with a few crystals, I can punch an airship out of the sky with nothing more than a sweep of my hand."

Ravess suddenly seemed rather weak at the knees, and had turned a shade whiter than she had before – she had quickly returned to her old self, cowering at Cyclonis' feet. "Yes… I understand, Master Cyclonis. I apologize. I'll… I'll be back," she said, quickly making her way out of the side door.

"You two were from her old squadron, correct?" Cyclonis asked the two Talons.

They both nodded.

"Cellos, no doubt. Go follow Ravess. Have her resume command of her cruiser." Cyclonis turned to face the other Talons by the entryway. "All of you may take up positions here on the bridge. We need to be running with a full crew."

"Master Cyclonis, I'm impressed," the Dark Ace said quietly as the Talons scrambled to their positions. "First you improvise in front of the Rex Guardians, and now this. Was that some kind of hypnosis?"

"No – in fact, this," she began, drawing the little purple crystal from her pocket again, "is just a fuel crystal. I couldn't punch a _fly_ out of the sky with this, much less hypnotize someone."

"That's some poker face you've got," the Dark Ace said with a whistle. "I'll be damned."


	17. Escalation

Piper was busying herself with cleaning out her heliscooter's radio when she heard footsteps. She placed her screwdriver, loose screws, and radio cover on the seat and turned around to see Finn. His arms were crossed, and he didn't look very excited.

"Aerrow says we're heading to the Wayside. Cyclonis was there, and she's gonna come back by the sound of it," Finn said indifferently, voice echoing somewhat against the – except for them and the skimmers – empty vehicle bay. "The Dark Ace is back, too. Don't ask me how."

He leaned against the wall next to Piper's heliscooter.

"It's all wrong, isn't it?" Piper asked unhappily.

Finn nodded. "Yeah. I don't get how Cyclonis can be so chill, memory gone, not hurting anybody, and then Starling can just come over and kidnap her, and be surprised when she gets her memory back." He shrugged. "Aerrow said it was dangerous to have her around, but even he knew she wasn't going to hurt anybody. Cyclonis isn't a bad apple. Well, she was before she lost her memory. And, well, after she got it back. Hmm…"

"I was hoping she would get a fair trial and maybe get something out of losing her memory, but…" Piper trailed off. She sat on the floor next to her heliscooter and leaned back onto it. "I guess we know how that turned out."

"Piper, I know you probably feel guilty about not helping her when she sort of died in front of you, but you shouldn't let that get in the way of the, uh, mission," he offered with a shrug. "I mean, this is pretty serious."

"I'm not going to stab anybody in the back for her, if that's what you mean," Piper said, hostility creeping into her voice. "I just… I just don't think it's fair. At all. And you're sort of right, because I _do_ blame myself for not helping her. Not because I didn't know how – because, well, I didn't – but because I didn't even _try_."

"No, no, I get it; I think the same thing. About it being unfair, I mean. I'm just saying what Aerrow said," Finn replied unenthusiastically.

"He said that?" Piper asked flatly. She shook her head. "I don't care. We should help Starling any way we can, I guess. If we get Cyclonis before she does whatever she's probably planning, then we will have protected anybody she was planning on hurting, maybe including herself. I just want to make sure she gets a fair trial."

"Yeah, cool. I'll go get some details from Aerrow about when we'll get there." Finn stepped away from the wall and made for the exit before turning back a few feet from the door. "Oh, but Piper… do you ever wonder what Cyclonis thinks about you teaching _her_, the crystal master, about crystals… or shopping for old skimmer parts in the desert with yours truly?"

Piper chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"There's that smile," Finn pointed out with a grin before strolling out. "Chicka-cha."

**(._.)**

"Oh, thank you for speaking with me, Master Cyclonis."

"You can stop groveling," Cyclonis muttered, pulling her foot back from the rather pathetic-looking man in Cyclonian uniform, who until that moment had been bowing down before her.

He stood up and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Master Cyclonis. Until now everyone has ignored my requests for a review."

She sized him up briefly. Aside from an impressive cross-shaped scar on his cheek, he seemed like an average – albeit slightly chubbier than the usual variety – Talon.

"Well, let's take a look at your service record," she began, flipping open the manila folder for a quick examination. "It appears as though you've done well in your navy career, commander. You've led many successful routine operations, and the only failed mission here seems to have been due to the Storm Hawks' meddling… and that was just distributing weather balloons."

He stroked his beard. "Well, uh, yes. You're too kind, master."

Cyclonis raised an eyebrow. "Interestingly enough, you are referred to as 'Commander Chicken Feather' in the weather balloon mission report. It doesn't seem to explain why."

"Well, yes, but I was hoping that if you choose to promote me to a higher position, I could be better known as something like Commander… Scar," he offered with a shrug. "Or something similar."

Cyclonis placed the folder on her desk. "I won't lie to you: we're running low on fuel, resources, and manpower; we need capable people. According to your file, you were at the top of your class in battle cruiser flight training, outperforming many pilots – seasoned veterans among them – so I want you to be the helmsman of my flagship."

His jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

"Really?" he asked blankly.

"At the risk of you falling to the floor again, I'd like to ask you to report to your new position and await further instructions. Keep us on the prearranged course," Cyclonis instructed. "And don't entertain any illusions that I've given you this promotion out of kindness or pity. I expect and demand quality performance."

"Yes, ma'am, I won't disappoint!" he exclaimed just before bolting out of the room, nearly hitting the Dark Ace and Ravess on his way out.

"He seemed excited," the Dark Ace pointed out unnecessarily as he stepped into Cyclonis' cabin.

It was a medium-sized room with a wide desk in the center covered in maps, diagrams, and other documents. The entire room's color scheme matched the palette of the rest of the ship – purple, burgundy, black, and gray. To some, it might be morose, but to Cyclonis, it was comfortable.

"Master Cyclonis, the Dark Ace was just telling me that you wanted to see me," Ravess explained with a subtle bow. She still bore signs of nervousness from their earlier altercation.

"Yes, that's correct," Cyclonis murmured. "I have been thinking about the first step of my plan – securing a foothold."

She sat back in her mahogany chair and pulled it up to the desk.

"We're operating on borrowed time. If we do not get our hands on a terra, we will inevitably run out of supplies. We cannot support an armada on scavenged fuel and dwindling food, water, and other essentials, and we cannot afford to break up the fleets to split up and gather resources when there aren't more than five ships in any single fleet," Cyclonis explained grimly. "We need a home base."

After carefully pulling one map from under a few stacks of papers, the hooded monarch slowly flipped it to face Ravess and the Dark Ace.

She tapped one of the landmasses with a slender finger. "As you can see by my notes, Terra Gale seems to be the most viable option. While I did considerable damage to it when I knocked one of the terra's peaks off, the archipelago-like shape of the terra, the expansive farmland, and the industrial infrastructure already in place render it easily defendable, ripe for the production of needed resources in the long run, and readily able to improve our military strength from scavenged supplies."

"Industrial infrastructure?" the Dark Ace murmured incredulously. "Terra Gale? If you mean roads and souvenir shops, sure, it has those, but the only remarkable things I can think about the terra are that they blew up our factories – or _industrial infrastructure_, if you want to call it that – when they took it over again, and that stone they have that can turn things into cheese."

Cyclonis furrowed her brow. "Pardon? Did you say… a stone that can turn things into _cheese_?"

"Well, yes," the Dark Ace replied with a nod. "The former leader of the rebels there – now the governor, or mayor, or whatever they have – has this rough-looking crystal that can turn things into cheese."

Cyclonis' eyes went wide. "The power… to alter matter?"

"If by 'alter matter', you mean 'alter matter into cheese', then yes," the Dark Ace explained with a raised eyebrow. "Is that… important?"

"You don't understand," Cyclonis said dismissively, now flipping through diagrams and crystal notes. "A crystal capable of changing an object into something else entirely… it would have to contain enormous power. My guess is that someone – probably an ancestor of this man from Gale – tuned it to turn things into cheese. I wouldn't be surprised if it contained more power than the Aurora Stone itself."

Under her hood, her expression went blank in sudden realization.

She pulled one of the pieces of paper from a drawer. "If I made some changes to the original design to compensate, then…" she muttered softly, eyeing a very specific blueprint.

"Should I tell the fleets to prepare for departure?" Ravess asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Cyclonis replied. "Our destination is Terra Gale. We need to seize it as fast as possible and secure that Cheese Stone."

**(._.)**

Starling paced back and forth uncomfortably. It was bad enough that she had been forced to wait at the Wayside, smelling cruiser exhaust and attracting curious stares from travelers, but now she felt like she was becoming paranoid. Every ship and skimmer that stopped or passed by prompted her to examine it carefully, eyes in the sky and hand near her radio transmitter, but of them had been Cyclonis.

She had attracted plenty of stares by people milling about the well-kept green grass between the diner and the docks – it seemed that whenever she glanced down from observing the skies, someone walking past with a crate or a receipt would scrutinize her.

Her mood lifted slightly when she saw the profile of the _Condor_ as it made a pass for a landing at one of the landing pads. With the Storm Hawks' assistance, Cyclonis' entourage would hopefully be unable to overpower her again.

"I say, is that you, Starling?" a stuffy voice called out from behind her.

Starling turned in the direction of the diner in the center of the terra. Harrier, whose eyebrow was raised curiously, was strolling in her direction as if he had just left the building.

"Harrier? What are you doing here?"

"My squadron was here before investigating a rather sizeable theft of crystals that were bound for Terra Rex," he explained with a huff. "They left, but I came back to follow up after we heard about a brief battle in the sky near this terra…"

"Sorry, that was me," Starling said grimly. "I managed to lose against Cyclonis' little squadron."

"Cyclonis?" Harrier asked uncertainly. "You don't mean that little girl in the costume, do you?"

Starling stared at him with a completely dumbfounded expression. It took her a full ten seconds of staring at Harrier to piece together her question.

"What?" she asked so eloquently that she was hardly able to form the word.

"Why, yes, there was a little girl dressed up as Master Cyclonis who insisted on having my autograph. Her costume looked to be almost a perfect copy," he noted with a curt nod. "It seemed authentic enough to startle us quite a bit, in any case."

"You have got to be kidding," Starling muttered. "That _was_ Cyclonis. She's back. The council wants to keep it quiet, so they sent me after her. I'm waiting to intercept her when she comes back through here – I would have gotten her before if not for her Nightcrawlers."

"Well, are you quite certain you have the right person?" Harrier asked indignantly, crossing his arms. "I highly doubt that a Cyclonian ruler would be quite as interested in my autograph as she was, and I didn't see her with any Nightcrawlers."

"I don't normally like commenting on people's intelligences to their faces, but…"

Starling trailed off when she heard a faint rumbling sound in the distance. She turned around in time to see around a dozen Cyclonian vessels – the last armada of the Cyclonian Empire – speed through a layer of clouds in the distance. She hesitated, unable to formulate her next move.

"Starling!"

Aerrow's voice rang out as a portion of the Storm Hawks team, Aerrow and Finn, broke through a frenzied crowd to reach Starling and her skimmer. People were dodging each other, and running in different directions to escape what they assumed was a Cyclonian assault. They settled down somewhat when they saw that the fleet was passing directly past the terra without stopping to ruin their day.

"Hmm. I suppose you were right, then," Harrier remarked as he busied himself with stroking his chin uncertainly. "Hello, Storm Hawks," he added as an afterthought. Arrogant as he was, an event like the one he was observing was definitely troublesome.

The Cyclonian destroyers, once they had passed the Wayside without incident, continued down their trajectory and began fading from sight one by one in the heavy, nearly-overcast weather.

"Hello, Aerrow… Finn," Starling acknowledged blearily. She directed a grim stare at where the ships had disappeared into the clouds. "We need to tell the council to send more help. This has escalated out of control – it certainly can't be kept quiet anymore."

"Yeah. Come aboard the _Condor_ and let's radio in," Aerrow suggested.

Harrier cleared his throat. "While you handle that, I must inform the Rex Guardians of this threat. We will assist however we can once we are mobilized. Good day."

Starling nodded as Harrier broke off in a quick jog toward his skimmer. She faced back in the direction of the two Storm Hawks as Aerrow gestured for them to follow him back toward their carrier.

"Cyclonis works _fast_," Finn commented unhappily as they began walking.

Starling nodded. "Indeed. That's what worries me."


	18. Invasion

Cyclonis tapped her newly-painted black fingernails against one of the audio control panels on the bridge. Her command staff members – headed by the wise Commander Chicken Feather – were busying themselves with maintaining her flagship's course and relaying her orders to the rest of the fleet.

The Nightcrawler commander strolled slowly up to stand next to her, taking her eyes away from the gentle, rolling plains of the beautiful green terra in front of her, dotted here and there with farmhouses and hamlets, as well as a single town.

"Master…" he greeted with a subtle bow. "The attack will commence on your order."

"Well, let's give them one chance to save themselves a bit of embarrassment," Cyclonis suggested with a rare grin.

She snatched up her microphone and held down the transmitter.

"People of Terra Gale: I'm sure you know who I am by the sound of my voice, and I'm sure you know what I want by looking at my navy." She paused for effect as the echoes of her amplified voice dissipated over the unhappy terra. "I recommend a quick surrender to avoid any sort of sordid confrontation, in which case the occupation, with your cooperation, will be as painless as I can possibly make it."

She raised an eyebrow when, from behind her, a few snickers arose from the bridge's crew.

"They're not really going to surrender, are they, master?" Commander Chicken Feather asked in an uncertain, over-the-shoulder query from the helm at the center of the bridge.

Cyclonis opened her mouth to respond just as a refrigerator smashed through the window and skidded to a halt several feet away on the wood paneled floor. She glanced from the huge new hole in the glass, back to the fridge, and then to the pilot. She pointed at the refrigerator with a newly-furrowed brow.

"I see…" he replied with a frown. "That seems like a, uh… problem."

"Not for us. We have a fleet, and all they have is the Rebel Ducks, and… kitchen equipment," Cyclonis remarked, punctuating the sentence with a dismissive wave of her hand. After retracting her hood, she turned to face the terra again. After a moment of thought, she glanced to the Nightcrawler commander. "Begin the invasion. Once their fighting force is neutralized, recover them, and confine all Gale citizens to their homes. I want no causalities. We will need them alive."

"By your orders, Master."

**(._.)**

It was quiet on the bridge, since Starling had gone off to radio in for assistance. Stork was piloting through the overcast skies as usual while wearing a grimace, Junko was tweaking a pressure gauge with Finn, Piper was going through the area's charts, and Aerrow was twiddling his thumbs by the door, waiting for Starling to return with news.

"Why does Cyclonis have a fleet?" Finn asked uncertainly. "She was supposed to be alone."

Piper sighed, and put down the local map. "We knew the Cyclonians were out there somewhere… I guess Starling miscalculated."

"She should've seen it coming. I know I did," Stork remarked with a dark stare. He turned back to the controls. "Well, maybe it was just a bad feeling."

"Well, we should do something about it," Junko suggested, looking away from his work long enough for the gauge's needle to head into the red and begin squealing. He quickly adjusted the adjacent pipe with a bowling pin-sized wrench.

"We're really doing all we can by waiting for Starling to return with news," Aerrow said grimly. Once all eyes were on him, he shrugged. "We've got a good record against the Cyclonians, but I don't really think we can take out an entire fleet by ourselves."

"Then it's a good thing we won't be alone," Starling interjected, strolling into the room with a grin.

"Starling," Aerrow acknowledged. "What did the council say?"

"They agreed with me," she replied with a nod. "They can't keep it quiet with a stateless enemy fleet on the loose. The Rex Guardians, Lucky Sevens, Third Degree Burners, and Screaming Queens have been dispatched with more squadrons preparing, and an Atmosian volunteer fleet is being mobilized as we speak."

"Great. Do we know where Cyclonis' fleet went?" Aerrow asked.

"Apparently the council received a distress call from Terra Gale just before their communications went out. They're probably being invaded, or maybe they've already fallen," Starling explained, shaking her head regretfully. "Either way, we need to intervene as soon as possible. Gale has resisted Cyclonian incursions before, but until now Cyclonia has seen them as more trouble than they were worth – this is their first real full-scale invasion there."

"I don't get how all this got so out of hand," Finn muttered once he and Junko secured the pipe and gauge successfully.

"As long as Cyclonia exists, things will stay out of hand," Starling commented with a pointed expression.

Piper glanced up from her papers, and repeated Starling's statement to herself.

"Cyclonia doesn't exist. The terra, anyway... not anymore, at any rate. I hope you're not talking about Cyclonians in general," she remarked grimly.

At that point, the pipe that Junko and Finn had been just finishing up squealed and began leaking steam. That quickly motivated them to begin scrambling around for the correct tools.

Starling raised an eyebrow at Piper's previous comment. "Well, I mean their empire, I suppose. Same thing. Whatever." She turned around to face the door to the bridge she had emerged from. "I need to get ready…"

After Starling left, Piper glanced up at Aerrow with a displeased expression.

"Aerrow, you heard her, didn't you?" Piper asked coldly.

Aerrow raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"She must have something against the Cyclonians as a people," Piper explained with a troubled expression.

Aerrow shrugged. "Well, I don't know how she reasons things, but if we hurry and stop the Cyclonians now, we can prevent this whole scenario before it starts, make sure the people responsible are brought to justice, and keep Terra Gale safe."

"Yeah, well, that's the standard answer," Piper remarked glumly. She dropped her charts and leaned back against the table. "I hope you're right… it's just that I don't agree with Starling's recent attitude."

"I guess she just doesn't like the idea of the Raptor's former allies causing chaos. She is an Interceptor, after all…" Aerrow considered, stroking his chin carefully. "Anyway, though, we should be close to resolving this. Cyclonis' forces aren't in the best shape and our backup's already on the way."

"You're forgetting about one thing, you know," Stork muttered ominously, serious voice contrasting sharply with the vague humor of Finn and Junk falling over themselves near him looking for a properly-sized wrench. "Cyclonia wasn't really fighting for anything before. Now they are."

"What do you mean?" Aerrow asked.

Stork glanced behind him. "Before, they were just following orders. Now… they're fighting for the survival of their people." His left eye twitched. "Game changer."

**(._.)**

The Dark Ace flinched as a skimmer he had dealt a devastating slash to exploded mere seconds after the Rebel Duck pilot had bailed out. He glanced down and grinned at the furious man who was slowly floating down to the land many feet below with the aid of his parachute.

"_How goes the aerial attack?_" Cyclonis' voice asked over the radio.

The Dark Ace pressed down the transmitter. "Very well. They're already on the defensive."

"_Excellent. I will begin the ground assault,_" the Master of Cyclonia replied in her usual emotionless speech.

The Dark Ace banked around sharply and lined up with another opponent, narrowly avoiding a friendly Talon that was evading a Duck on his tail. The Dark Ace unceremoniously lifted his blade, and it caught the tailing skimmer on the wing and sent both it and its pilot into a spiral. The crystal he had installed into his sword was scrounged up from what weapons-grade crystals were left – it wasn't as great as he would've liked, but evidently, it worked.

"Cyclonian scum!" the Duck in front of the Dark Ace shouted in response, hurling a frying pan that whizzed dangerously close to his head, but flew past in a near miss.

The Dark Ace veered to the left and pushed the throttle just a bit faster than the Rebel Duck's skimmer was going, then climbed out of his seat onto his wing. The Rebel Duck glanced back around at the Dark Ace in time to see the latter swing his blade down on his engine.

The Dark Ace broke off from the chase as the Duck went down in smoke, shouting something incomprehensible as he engaged his parachute.

The knight of Cyclonia glanced from side to side, seeing a few Talons flying around the Cyclonian cruisers and Terra Gale itself, but he couldn't identify any more of Terra Gale's forces on the horizon. They had actually done it.

Meanwhile, the commander of Master Cyclonis' Nightcrawlers and his group were moving in for the ground attack.

The commander narrowed his bright red eyes. Cyclonis had compensated for the power of the sun weakening their activity, but the late afternoon sunlight was still uncomfortable.

The verdant fields of Terra Gale lay before them, and the commander brought the Nightcrawlers into a steep dive that leveled off just above the plain. After switching out their rotors in favor of wheels, they hit the ground at a reckless speed and kept going, flinging tall grass and dust into the air.

"Kitchen utensils!" came an alert from the left side of the V formation.

It was true. A great mass of cutlery flew past, narrowly avoided with a sharp curve by each half of the team, which split them in two groups.

The commander and the three Nightcrawlers in his half broke off toward the source of the stainless steel mortaring, and the remainder of the squad leaned left to draw their fire.

They emerged from the tall grass in a small clearing that ended just as the main town of Terra Gale began, houses hastily locked up with closed shutters and barricades formed from barrels, sacks, and whatever else they could scrounge up. The source of the strikes was obvious – there was a short, angry little man with two Rebel Duck assistants trying to load more improvised ammunition into a catapult.

Immediately, the commander's half of the squad skidded to a halt just before the three, leaped off of their vehicles, and landed on the ground, firmly rooted in position with crossbows aimed threateningly at the Gale combatants.

While the other Nightcrawlers held up the Rebel Ducks, who got the message quickly that they had been captured, the commander fired an energy bolt into the restraining rope of the catapult, which caused the empty bucket to be flung uselessly.

The little man shouted something in his native language and then threw a spoon at the commander. It struck his leather armor with a soft thud and bounced into the grass.

"Master, we have their leader," the commander said into his radio, ignoring the spoon-related attack.

Before the angry little man, Wren, could throw something else, the second half of the Nightcrawler squad roared up and dismounted their rides while the first took up positions to detain the Gale governor and his men.

"_Ensure that all Gale citizens remain in their homes. The Talons will be arriving to secure the area momentarily, so bring any captured Rebel Ducks to a cell in the Gale jail, but keep the governor in a cell by himself. Report any emergencies or abnormalities to me,_"Cyclonis ordered imperiously.

"Yes, master."

**(._.)**

**[ Author's Note: **

**Well, the story is almost done. Like, only one or two more chapters remain. But it's been a year. Wow. It should **_**not**_** have taken this long. Sorry about that. ]**


End file.
